


Keep Yourself Alive

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bordering on Smile years, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Early Years of Queen, Eventual Homosexual Sex, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Implied Suicide Attempt, Like super early, M/M, Mentions of overdosing, Mild Fighting, No Paul Prenter, No Tim Staffell, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual exploration, Soft Boys, The Guys Standing Up For Each Other, Touching, maybe even Suicidal Thouhts?, not much though, protective roger, self-destructive thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Roger and Brian are the best of friends. They know each other better than anyone else and think nothing of cuddling or touching. They help each other as well as Freddie and their newest band member as the days go by on their road to stardom.





	1. friends will be friends

**.    .     .**

 

The cold draft in the room woke Roger up, involuntarily making him shiver under his two thin blankets. He groaned tiredly, unable to have fallen asleep until about 2 a.m., four hours earlier. He tried to go back to sleep but the freezing room was too much and he stood up, still half asleep, grabbed his blankets and headed towards Brian’s room.

The drummer used to share his room with him until they had a huge fight about six nights ago and Brian moved himself out of the room and into one of the spare rooms. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about anymore but he hoped that his friend wouldn’t let him die of hyperthermia.

He tentatively crept inside the guitarist’s bedroom and saw the taller man lying on his side, facing the door. Roger then saw the comforter Brian was under lift up in welcome and he wasted no time climbing under it, lying down beside him.

He could feel the other man’s body heat under the covers and then felt an arm wrap around his body before they both fell asleep again.

Since Brian had moved out of the bedroom, this had become routine ever since then when it was the coldest in the early morning hours. The drummer never complained about it but it’s probably because they always felt the closest to each other than anyone else.

They loved Freddie but he preferred his privacy for the most part so he was glad to stay in his own room. They knew the singer loved them as well, but it wasn’t the same.

They cuddled together more often than not, and seemed to enjoy each other’s casual touches but they had never kissed or… _slept together._ They considered each other closer than most friends but didn’t think anything of it, and Freddie didn’t comment on their friendship either.

Of course that didn’t mean that the two men never had fights, like the one seven nights ago.

It was about three hours later when Brian and Roger both woke up at the same time, the drummer stretching and glancing over at the other man who gave him a playful smile.

“We really need to get that thermostat fixed, don’t we?” he asked him knowingly.

Roger chuckled and instinctively pulled the covers closer to him, turning over to look at him. “It’s fuckin’ cold, Bri…”

“Come on,” Brian said as he stood up. “Let’s go get the coffee started. You’ll warm up some with something warm in your system.”

Roger groaned and reluctantly stood up before he followed him into the kitchen, his two blankets wrapped around him tightly, yelping when his feet touched the cold floor. He hopped up onto a chair and watched the drummer make a fresh pot of coffee, yawning.

The cold didn’t seem to affect Brian too much. “You know why you’re cold, don’t you, Rog?” He had that cocky tone in his voice.

“Why?”

“Because of our fight several days ago. If it hadn’t gotten so bad, I wouldn’t have moved myself out and you’d have more body heat in bed.”

Roger sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Brian. You’re the one who willingly moved out.”

No blood had been shed, but it was no doubt one of the worse ones they’ve ever had in all their time together.

“What was it even about?” Roger asked, watching as Brian poured two cups of coffee for them and sat down on the opposite side of the drummer.

“You’re serious? You don’t remember?” When Roger shook his head, Brian rolled his eyes. “We were arguing about who should cook what and when, and you started yelling because you thought I told you that I didn’t like your cooking and then you told me I could ‘starve for all you cared,’ and then you threw one of your drumsticks at me.”

“Oh,” Roger smirked, starting to remember the fight now. “Did I hit you with it?”

Brian shook his head. “I was able to duck just in time. Anyway, I wouldn’t classify putting pizza in the oven as cooking exactly.”

Roger huffed. “I can make other things too, Bri!”

The guitarist sighed and looked at his friend. “I’m not getting into this with you again, Rog. We have more pressing matters anyway right now.”

“Like what?”

Footsteps entered the kitchen and Rog looked over to see Freddie enter the room and glance over at the two men with a small smile.

“Like a bass player, dear. We need a bass player. You two hired me pretty quickly and neglected to have more specific qualifications,” the singer answered as he poured himself a cup and joined the two men at the table.

Roger casually lifted his leg up onto Brian’s and felt the guitarist place a gentle hand on it. “We needed a new singer!”

Brian shrugged now and sighed but chuckled. “I’m afraid Freddie’s right on this one, but Roger’s got a point as well; we couldn’t exactly be picky about who we chose at the time and Freddie _did_ have a brilliant voice, to be fair.”

“Of course I have a brilliant voice, darling,” he smirked in satisfaction.

Roger chuckled at his cockiness before he looked over at Brian who sipped his coffee. “All right, a bass player. How are we going to go about it, then?”

Freddie shrugged and looked at Brian. “What do you think?”

The man shrugged as well. “Have try-outs somewhere? That way we’ll have choices and we can pick out the right one right away.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the singer agreed, nodding.

Roger also nodded in agreement before he realized what Freddie was wearing now. “How aren’t you freezing in that getup, Fred?”

Freddie looked aghast. “This getup, as you put it, are my nightclothes!”

“It’s a tank top and sweatpants,” Roger corrected. “In winter. Those aren’t exactly pajamas, Freddie. Those are spring and summer clothes.”

The singer rolled his eyes. “What can I say, darling? I run hot naturally.”

“Should’ve crawled into your bed,” Roger mumbled jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. Freddie didn’t seem to hear him but when he looked across, he saw Brian chuckling quietly.

“All right, well I’m going to go make and put up the fliers in the area for a bassist. Do you think you two can manage to behave yourselves while I’m gone, or do I have to find a sitter to watch you?” Freddie teased.

“We’ll be fine, Fred,” Brian promised. “I’ll keep Rog in line.”

“I’m sure you will, dear.” Freddie finished his coffee and then headed to his room to get changed.

“Keep me in line?” Roger challenged playfully. “Keep yourself in line. If you would just –"

“What?” Brian interrupted softly. “Agree with you on everything, even if you’re wrong? If I agreed with you on everything then it’d go to your head and you’d be unbearable.”

The drummer huffed and lifted his foot before he tapped his friend’s chest with it. Brian grabbed his foot with his free hand before he held it in his hand, pretending to bend his toes forward, causing Roger to surrender and relax again on his leg.

“Such a child,” tisked Brian, shaking his head as he chuckled, finishing his coffee. There was a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes before he spoke again. “What do you feel like doing today while Fred’s gone? He’ll probably be gone most of the day.”

Roger leaned back in his chair and shrugged after taking a sip of coffee. “We could go out for lunch?” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have class this morning until 11, but we could meet up after?”

Brian considered this and nodded. “Yeah, that could work. I don’t have my next class until 2 so we can hang out some, I’ll drop you back home, and then go to back to the college for my last class. Want me to take a cab and come and find you for lunch?”

The drummer nodded, finishing his coffee before lighting a cigarette. “Yeah, sure.”

Brian sighed and took the cigarette out of his mouth before he put it out in the ashtray. “You told me you’d cut down on them, Rog.”

The blonde looked affronted. “I have, Brian! Please, just let me have one with coffee this morning and then I won’t have one until later. I promise.” He looked at the guitarist hopefully.

Brian looked disappointedly at him but nodded. “Fine, but just one this morning. No chain smoking.”

Roger put his hands up in agreement before he nearly jumped towards his cigarette package and took out a fresh one, placing it between his lips and lighting it again. He took a deep drag and seemed to visibly relax.

“I’ll get you another cup,” Brian spoke gently as he stood up and grabbed his friend’s cup before he poured him another and set it down in front of him. “All right, then. I’m going to go get ready. Remember your promise.”

The drummer nodded and took a sip of coffee before he stood up and walked over to the couch to watch television before he had to get dressed and ready as well. He started to take smaller drags of the cigarette to enjoy it more since he wouldn’t be lighting up another until at least lunch.

Brian came back into the room about ten minutes later, dressed and ready. He put his jacket on before he placed his hands on Roger’s shoulders. “I’m off, then. I’ll see you later. Don’t go wandering off again like you did last time we were going to go out to lunch.”

Roger chuckled, shaking his head before he took another drag, looking up at Brian. “I didn’t… wander off. I told you, I had to use the loo!”

“You didn’t come back for half an hour!”

“I got distracted!” Roger insisted, laughing now.

Brian was looking impatient but he smirked, taking his hands off his friend’s shoulders. “By women, as usual. Later!”

“Yeah, later,” Roger waved before he finally finished his second cup of coffee, put out his finished cigarette and went to get ready for class as well.

 

**…… …. … …. …….. … …….**

Roger couldn’t get out of class sooner when he made a dash outside and pulled out his cigarettes. He lit one and relaxed again when he took a drag from it.

Brian had made him make a different promise before a few weeks back when the three of them had gone out for drinks and the guitarist had seen Roger chain smoke most of the night as he drank. It must have made him nervous or something but it was nothing for the drummer. Now, he was forced to cut back on them and he could feel the nicotine withdrawal start to get to him.

He was about halfway through it when he saw Brian get out of a cab near the college and walk towards him, faux disappointment in his eyes as he neared.

“What?” Roger looked at him, shoving him his cigarette. “I’ve kept my promise! This is my first one since this morning.”

“It better be,” Brian playfully smirked. “Ready to go?”

Roger nodded and the two of them grabbed a cab to the nearest café, grabbing a table closest to the back. Brian went to order for both of them and brought the food back, along with two large coffees for both men.

He placed a muffin in front of Roger as well and sat down beside him before realizing how Roger was behaving. The drummer was rubbing his palms on his legs back and forth, looking anxious. He bit his lip before he searched the man’s face, having a feeling what was going on.

“Hey, you all right, Rog?” He whispered to him gently, searching his eyes.

The drummer seemed to notice what he was doing unconsciously now and nodded before he cleared his throat and glanced around at a few people who were staring at him. He swallowed hard and started to pick at his muffin quietly.

Brian placed a soft hand on his shoulder and moved his chair, his own coffee and his piece of Danish closer to Roger to block the staring group at the table next to them. “Hey, talk to me, yeah? You’re anxious about something, I can tell. Let me help.”

“I-It doesn’t matter. I’m just…” he sighed and scoffed. “I’m just a bother.” His fingers twitched, aching to hold another cigarette.

Brian felt his heart break for the man and immediately shook his head. “No, not you’re not. You’re not a bother; you’re my friend, and whatever it is, we can talk it out and come to a solution. Tell me what’s going on, mate.”

Roger was still quiet for several moments but wet his lips, seemingly ready to open up. He started to rub his palms on his legs again. “I… I was late t-to my first class, a-and the professor called me out on it and embarrassed me for a good five minutes, a-and… then I f-flunked the test we had because… I-I didn’t know we even had one today. It was just… one thing after another…” His breath hitched and Brian recognized what was about to happen.

He turned his body to his friend and slipped both his hands into Roger’s clammy ones. “Try and calm down, Rog. You’re going into panic attack mode. Do what we’ve practiced, yeah? In through your nose for seven, exhale through your mouth slowly for eleven…”

Roger was trembling a little bit but he nodded, closing his eyes as he clenched Brian’s hands in his, trying the breathing exercise.

“Good, keep at it. You’re all right, Roger… these are easy things to fix. Next time, leave the flat earlier, right?” He watched the drummer nod quickly, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, and can you ask to have a make-up test for the one you failed?”

Roger shook his head, exhaling too fast. “T-There’s no make-up test… the grade’s going to b-be added t-towards my average…”

Brian let go of one of his hands and placed his own hand on Roger’s back, slowly sliding it up and down comfortingly. “Okay, that’s all right, mate. I’ll help you study for your next exam then and you’ll pass it. That good grade will help bring up your average.”

Roger opened his eyes now, shaking his head. “Y-You don’t have t-to help me… you shouldn’t h-have to… I’m just… a w-waste of t-time…”

The guitarist shook his head quickly. “No, that isn’t true at all. You’re a talented musician, Rog, and a great person most of the time when you’re not being a total arse. I know I don’t _have_ to help you study, but I _want_ to. You mean a lot to me, I mean it, okay?”

Roger nodded and seemed to be calming down a bit. Brian glanced around and noticed more and more people watching them. He leaned in. “Hey, go outside and have a smoke, I’ll grab our things to go, and we can head home until I have to leave again in a few hours. All right?”

The other man seemed relieved at the anticipation to have another cigarette and nodded quickly before making a mad dash outside for fresh air. Brian grabbed both their coffees and asked for a bag to go before stuffing both pastries inside and headed outside to see Roger gingerly holding a cigarette but his hands were shaking so bad that he hadn’t been able to light it.

Brian stuffed the bag under his arm before he set the coffees on the sill and took Roger’s lighter from him, leaning in and lighting the cigarette for him. He watched as the drummer took a couple short drags from it, his breathing starting to calm down a little. He looked at him with concerned eyes.

He wanted the drummer to learn healthier ways to cope with his anxiety and it wasn’t helpful that smoking appeared to help him. It was a crutch.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

Roger nodded, appearing to even out a bit as he took another drag and then put out the cigarette. “T-Thanks, Bri…”

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s go home.” He hailed a cab and the two men climbed inside, Roger taking his own coffee again, Brian suspected to have something warm between his hands.

He wrapped an arm around Roger’s as they sat together in the back of the cab, Roger resting his head on the guitarist’s shoulder as his breathing gradually began to get better again. Once they got home, it was already noon and the two of them walked inside before going into Brian’s room.

Brian put some music on and they sat facing each other on the bed after wrapping themselves in blankets, their food spread out between them and their coffees on tables nearby.

Roger smiled at his friend, apparently having calmed down after talking to him. He took small bites of the muffin now, no longer picking at it hesitantly.

A few minutes later, they heard the door close and looked up when they saw Freddie look around before walking inside their room.

“This bloody flat! It’s bloody freezing in here, darlings!” the singer exclaimed, rubbing is arms up and down in a feeble attempt to warm himself.

“We need to call someone to fix the thermostat, Fred,” Brian announced.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Afraid we can’t do that, Brian. We can barely afford the rent and groceries between the three of us, let alone pay someone to fix _anything_ in this place, dear.”

Roger sighed and shook his head. “Give us some good news, Freddie.”

“Hm?” The singer looked dumbfounded for a few seconds before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Right… well I made tryouts for tomorrow at 4pm at an auditorium I booked for a few hours to give people time to find us so we shall hopefully have a bassist before the day’s out.”

Both musicians on the bed looked relieved and nodded.

“Good,” Brian smiled. “Fingers crossed then.”

Freddie grinned and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! So are we doing today? Classes going well so far?” He walked over and sat on the small amount of bed that was available and snuck a piece of Brian’s Danish.

Roger seemed to tense up and went back to quietly eating his muffin. Brian looked over at Freddie. “My day was all right so far but Roger’s had a rough morning. How’s your morning going, Fred?”

The singer smirked. “I was putting up flyers and I met a very lovely man. He seemed very interested in me, so that was nice.”

Brian smiled and shrugged. “Maybe he was just interested in the flyer?”

Freddie looked at him with a mischievous smile. “Perhaps, we shall see. He said he’d be there tomorrow at tryouts. I think you all would get on marvelously with him.”

“Did he tell you his name?” Roger suddenly asked, not looking up at them.

Freddie squinted his eyes in thought. “No, but I can point him out to you both when he comes in.”

Brian nodded. “Well, hopefully he can play bass as well as he can flirt with you apparently,” he chuckled before taking another bite of his pastry.

Freddie nodded and stood awkwardly in the room for a while before he looked at them. “Well, I’m going to take a hot shower to warm up some, and then I have to go to the store for groceries so I’ll be back later, dears.”

“All right, Fred. See you later, then.”

The singer left the room and Brian looked over at Roger. “Hope that’s okay, that I told him about you this morning?”

Roger shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t care,” he gave a small smile to his friend. “We have a plan now, right? I feel better with a plan.”

“I know you do, Rog,” Brian smiled back at him before he leapt across the bed and wrapped his arms around the other man who burst out laughing as he wrapped his own arms around the taller man.

“My muffin!” He cried out as the two men finally relaxed, half on the floor, half on the bed, their arms around each other as they laughed.


	2. new man in the band

**.    .     .**

  
 It was so cold the next morning in the flat that the three men decided to head over to the auditorium early to practice and hang out. The auditorium was heated, luckily, and felt much more comfortable than their place that felt like twenty below.

They had gotten coffee at the nearby café and brought it to the room to drink it.

“It’s sad that we’re forced to find somewhere else that’s heated to hang out instead of our place,” Roger noted, sighing as he started doing taps on his cymbals.

“No, Rog, what’s sad is that none of us can fix the bloody thermostat. Between a designer, an astrophysicist, and a dentist, you would think at least one of us would be able to figure it out,” Brian corrected, sitting in a chair as he sipped his coffee, his guitar slung around his body.

Roger smirked towards his friend now before he snickered to himself. “Yeah, you would think an astrophysicist would be able to figure out the mechanics of fixing a household thermostat at least.”

Freddie started laughing and grinning at the remark and Brian looked over at Roger with playfully narrowed eyes. He reached over and grabbed the plastic wrapper his breakfast had come in and balled it up before he threw it at the drummer who laughed and ducked.

“Oi, Rog. You’re hilarious…” Brian sighed and then saw the first bassist enter the auditorium, walking towards them.

The guys straightened up now and gave him time to set up before motioning for him to play something. The man, who looked more like a boy, looked confused now.

“I’m sorry?”

Freddie cleared his throat and took a couple steps over to him. “Play something you wrote yourself, dear” he instructed.

The bassist smirked now at Freddie’s pet name before he raised his eyebrows. “All I know are covers,” he suddenly bent down to unplug his bass.  “I don’t want to play with any poofs anyway.”

Roger stood up quickly at the slur but Brian put his hand out towards to him to tell him to stop. The drummer reluctantly sat down but the anger on his face said it all. Brian looked over at the man.

“Good because we don’t want any wankers in our band anyway. Sod off now, thank you.”

The bassist flipped all of them off before he walked out.

“Fucker,” Roger shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s okay, dears,” Freddie shrugged. “Let’s not despair. We have all day and surely there’s one kind-hearted bassist who’s not a complete prick.”

“Yeah, one prick is enough,” Brian teased, smirking over at Roger.

Roger threw one of his drumsticks at the guitarist in reaction but was playfully narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“Oi!” Brian ducked just in time before he grabbed the stick and tossed it gently back to Roger who easily caught it. “Calm down, yeah?”

Roger was quiet for a while before he rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, just dying for a cigarette.”

He heard Brian sigh before he saw Freddie look over at him with a look. “Just let him have one, darling. One won’t kill him.”

Brian shook his head. “No, because we’re doing something here,” he spoke quieter as if Roger couldn’t hear either of them. “He’ll want one with coffee, then one will turn into two, and three… what should we tell the bassists? ‘Hold on, our drummer needs a chain smoke break’?”

Freddie rolled his eyes and walked over to Roger, standing in front of the drum kit, looking at him with gentle eyes. “Just one more and then we’ll take a break. Hang in there, okay, dear?”

Roger looked frustrated as he rolled his neck but nodded. “Yeah, all right, Freddie.”

They went through another unsuccessful one before they broke for lunch, and returned again to watch a few more bassists play, but most of them were average to mediocre, most of them playing cover songs instead of anything original they wrote themselves, a couple more of them throwing slurs at Freddie before storming out in a huff.

Roger was about to beat heads in when another bassist came inside, looking around a bit timidly. Roger was feeling anxious and antsy again without another cigarette but sat down politely to give this one a fair shot, not missing the warning look from Brian.

“What’s your name, dear?” Freddie asked the younger man.

The bassist plugged his bass in before he looked up at them. “Oh, sorry. Deacon, John Deacon.”

“Okay, John,” Freddie gave him a friendly, but tired smile. “As you may or may not know already, I’m Freddie, this is Roger,” he pointed behind him at the drummer who gave a short wave, “and this is Brian," he pointed over his shoulder to Brian who gave a smile. "Whenever you’re ready, you can start, darling.”

“Right, okay.” The man tuned his bass quickly before he started playing a song that none of them had ever heard before, which meant it was original material.

_Finally._

The rest of the band members looked around at each other with impressed expressions before looking over at John when he was done a few minutes later.

“Apologies, I know that was a bit short. I haven’t written many songs…” John looked almost embarrassed and small.

Freddie looked between Roger and Brian who both nodded, giving a thumbs up to him. The singer looked back at John.

“That was absolutely brilliant, John! Can you tell us a bit about yourself, please?”

The bassist looked nervous, shifting his weight now. “Err… well, I’m 22, I go to Imperial College and major in electrical engineering –"

“Could you… theoretically repair a thermostat, John?” Freddie asked quickly, interrupting him.

Brian and Roger exchanged looks with each other before looking back over at John.

“Umm… yeah, yes. I suppose I could,” he nodded, giving Freddie a confused look as he nodded. He unplugged his bass and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Is this part of the test?”

Freddie smirked and clasped his hands together. “Yes, darling, and you passed with flying colors! If you have a pen and paper, can you please write down your number and give it to Brian so we can contact you when we need to?”

John Deacon looked like he couldn’t stop grinning now, obviously feeling overwhelmed. “Really? Oh, yeah, sure thing. Not a problem. Umm….” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket before he found a pen in his backpack and wrote down something before he hurried over to Brian eagerly and handed it to him.

Brian smiled as he took it and nodded. “Cheers, mate. We’ll be in touch.”

“Right, excellent. Thank you… really,” he said nervously. “Well, okay, then. Umm… bye,” he waved awkwardly before he hurried out of the auditorium.

Roger chuckled at the man before he looked over at Freddie. “Did we really just hire a bloke because he majors in electrical engineering?”

“To be fair, he was a decent bassist who wasn’t a close-minded arsehole,” Brian noted, shrugging. “If he can fix the thermostat, then that’s enough for me right now. I’m sick of being fucking cold all the time.”

Roger ran a hand through his hair and spun his drumsticks in mid-air in thought, knowing that Brian had a valid point. 

“Well now that we’re finished here, what shall we do now?”

“Go somewhere warm?”

Brian put a hand up to them as an idea crossed his mind. He suddenly ran out of the auditorium, leaving both men behind as he eventually caught up to John just as the shorter man had made it outside, leaving Brian out of breath.

“John! John…” he sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath again. The man turned to look at the guitarist. “W-Would you like t-to come back to our flat and go out for drinks later? To celebrate?”

John beamed now and nodded “Yeah, yeah that’d be great. Thanks, Brian.”

The taller man nodded and smiled. “Great. Come back with me and we can get the others and head out.”

They walked back to the auditorium and grabbed the other men before they all piled into the van, along with their instruments, and headed back to the flat.

The men hung up their jackets before instantly grabbing blankets off the sofa and wrapping them around themselves.

John shivered noticeably before he chuckled. “Is it always this cold in here?”

Brian and Roger both chuckled before Freddie grinned. “This is your second audition, John, darling. If you could be a dear and fix the thermostat for us?”

“Oh!” John’s eyes widened in realization now and nodded. “Sure, of course. Don’t suppose you have any tools?”

The guys exchanged uncertain looks before Roger perked up and ran off towards the living room and knelt down, pulling out a small box and stood up again before handing it to John quietly.

John looked surprised at the drummer’s sudden silence but nodded thankfully, smiling softly. “Cheers, Roger.” He opened up the box and saw a bunch of small tools in it and headed down the hall towards where the broken thermostat was on the wall.

Brian walked over to Roger and gently caressed his back before he chuckled. “How did you even know those were there?”

Freddie looked over to hear the answer as well.

“I was… with someone and we were fooling around on the couch one night and we fell off and I just saw it on the ground under the couch.”

“Hold on,” Brian put up a hand. “You were with a girl, on this couch? Like… _with_ with?”

Roger smirked now and nodded.

Freddie hurried into the kitchen and grabbed some kind of fabric sanitizer before he brought it out and started to spray the couch furiously with it. “Roger, you absolute slut! You couldn’t even be bothered to take it to the bedroom?”

Roger rolled his eyes and shrugged. “There wasn’t any time!”

“There’s always time not to be disgusting on our couch, _our couch_ that we all sit and lay on!” Freddie looked at him with exasperation.

“Sorry! It’s too late now anyway. I’m going to go see how John’s doing. I’m sick of being nagged on,” he walked into the hallway and over to John, seeing him using a tiny screwdriver after he took apart the thermostat. “Any hope for it?”

John looked surprised to see anyone so close to him but he gave a small smile. “Oh, yeah. There is… it might just take about ten more minutes but I think I can fix it. How long have you been living with it being so cold in here?”

Roger thought for a moment. “I think about three weeks? I don’t even know anymore. How long have you been handy?”

John looked back down at the instrument in his hand. “Umm… about 8 years now, I believe? I’ve been keen about taking things apart and putting them back together since I was about fourteen. I liked the challenge and I watched my father do it as well.”

Roger nodded with interest now and chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve always been shit at fixing things. I can barely cook anything, let alone fix things.”

The younger man laughed as well. “I can cook a few things, nothing fancy, though. Who would you say is the best cook in the flat?”

“Probably Brian,” he said instantly. “He makes mostly vegetarian dishes, but he occasionally makes non vegetarian things for Freddie and me as well,”

He watched John smile and nod in acknowledgement as he worked and then felt a bit anxious as the silence grew again between them. “Sorry, mate. I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to distract you too much.” He turned to leave.

John looked up in surprise. “You’re not distracting me, Roger. Honestly, I can do this stuff in my sleep by now,” he chuckled. “Umm… if you like, you can stay and keep me company?” The man’s eyes searched his own.

Roger gave a grateful smile and nodded. “Okay. T-Thanks. I can do that. So… you really are a great bass player, John. How long have you been playing?”

John didn’t look up from his work. “About six years. My father gave me a bass for my sixteenth birthday and I never looked back. It was a great distraction from schoolwork.”

The drummer and John both laughed softly.

“Yeah,” Roger agreed. “I’ve never really liked school either. My forte was women, to be honest. I excelled at them.”

John took a part out and blew into the thermostat before examining it. “Oh yeah? I’ve never really been successful with women, myself.”

There was a beat before Roger suddenly asked, “Men?”

“Hm?” The question took the bassist by surprise and he looked at Roger with an almost deer-in-headlights look that made the drummer’s heart sink.

Anxiety rose in his chest. _Fuck, he had taken it too far. He had ruined their friendship already._  

“I’m sorry, John… I didn’t mean to… assume. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what you are. Freddie’s gay and Brian and I don’t mind or anything,” Roger rambled.

John blinked a few times before he saw a panic in the blonde’s eyes. He set the thermostat and the tools down and looked like he might be panicking himself. He placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder before he looked at him.

“No, it’s fine… really, Roger. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” there was a fear in his voice as he saw the drummer pale with panic.

Then his heart sunk when he saw Brian walk over to them in the hallway, looking from Roger to John with careful eyes. “Everything all right here, gentlemen?”

“We were just talking and he just…” John trailed off now, not willing to talk about what they were talking about, but also unsure what was happening with Roger at the moment. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what happened.”

Brian’s eyes softened now, looking at Roger whose breathing had started to quicken and he was looking around numbly. He wrapped an arm around the drummer before smiling gently at John. “It’s okay, John. I got this; you can go back to work on that thermostat.”

John looked worriedly at Roger but nodded before he picked up the tools again and began working on fixing it again.

Brian still had an arm around the drummer when he went out to the living room where Freddie was watching television. “We’ll be back in a few.”

“All right, darlings. Take your time.”

Brian gently guided Roger to the guitarist’s room and sat him down before he put on some mellow music. He made his way back over to his friend now and gently rubbed Roger’s back in small circles.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

Roger pressed his palms into his thighs again and took a gasping breath. “I j-just… I f-fucked up, B-Bri! I didn’t mean to… we w-were talking about how I had luck w-with women and J-John doesn’t and t-then I was a f-fucking idiot a-and I asked him i-if he had any luck w-with men and I… he froze and j-just looked at me! I d-didn’t mean t-to offend him o-or anything but now h-he thinks I’m a c-cock…”

Brian continued to gently rub his back, making sure that Roger wasn’t leaning too far forward so he wasn’t getting any air into his lungs. “Well you _are_ a cock so it’s good that he found out right now, yeah?”

Roger let out a gasping chuckle now and gently shoved him. “Fuck o-off!”

Brian also chuckled before he became serious again. “Did he look angry when you asked him that, Rog?”

Roger tried to think back but the panic was fogging his mind. “I-I don’t think s-so… b-but he had this look on his f-face…”

The guitarist wet his lips and pulled up a chair in front of Roger before he sat down across from him. He gently took Roger’s face and lifted it up so the other man could look at him. He placed his hands on his shoulders.

“He probably just didn’t expect you to mention the prospect of being with guys. It doesn’t seem like he was upset about it. I’m sure that he was okay about it. It probably just caught him off guard.”

Roger slowly nodded, Brian’s words making sense now. He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before exhaling again. He held his head now, leaning forward, the room starting to spin.

Brian bit his lip, recognizing what was happening with the drummer. He gently pushed the man back again so he was sitting upright. “Stay right here for a second. I’ll be right back, okay? Do me a favor and start naming off famous drummers, yeah? And make sure you speak loud so I can hear you, okay?”

Roger was taking gasping breaths still, his skin still paling but he nodded weakly. His head felt heavy and he felt tears in his eyes. His anxiety attack was going into overtime.

Brian walked out into the hallway past John quickly, heading toward the bathroom. He waited until he heard Roger’s voice before he grabbed a washcloth and wet it.

“J-John Bonham!” the drummer yelled. “Keith M-Moon…”

Brian started back to Roger’s room and entered it before he closed the door again to give them privacy. He sat down again in front of him and he placed the washcloth over Roger’s forehead and held it there. “Good… that’s great, Rog. Keep naming them.”

This had been an exercise Brian had found out that helped distract Roger from the panic and anxiety to help him breathe better. It made him think about other things that he enjoyed thinking about. He had started doing these exercises ever since he had first experienced Roger’s panic attacks.

Roger appeared to relax a little at the relief of the cold washcloth, still doing the breathing exercises as well. “Umm… R-Ringo Starr… Mitch Mitchell… B-Bobby Elliot…”

“Bobby Elliot?” Brian asked suddenly.

“T-The Hollies,” Roger explained as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

“Oh, right…” The guitarist began to dab his face with the washcloth now before he moved down to Roger’s chest, seeing beads of sweat lacing his skin. “How’re you feeling?”

Roger nodded and took a deep breath before he let it out again. “Y-Yeah… yeah, I feel all right now.”

Brian smiled at him softly. “Good, I’m glad. Your color’s coming back too. That was a pretty intense attack. You haven’t had those for a while. Wonder why John was the one who set it off for you.”

Roger shrugged but he seemed to know the answer. “He’s new. I always feel awkward around new people, and I thought I fucked it all up with him earlier. I don’t want him to hate me already.”

The taller man nodded as he listened. “Well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t fuck anything up, Rog.  He seemed more concerned than anything about you,” the other man was quiet but he nodded. “Want to go back out there now or do you need more time in here?”

Roger shook his head and moved Brian’s arm away from him. He felt tired but he also wanted to be around the other two band mates. “I want to go out there.”

“All right. Go on, then. I’m just going to take this back,” he lifted the cloth and followed Roger out before he started down to the bathroom to put the cloth into the dirty laundry hamper.

He heard footsteps behind him.

“I-Is… he okay…?”

John’s voice was so small and quiet that Brian almost didn’t hear him. He glanced at him in the mirror before he turned around and gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. He gets anxiety attacks sometimes and he just panicked a little. It wasn’t your fault, though. These things just happen with him sometimes. Did you manage to fix the thermostat?”

John brightened a little now, nodding. “Yeah, it’s all fixed. It should start feeling warmer soon.”

Brian grinned and gentle patted him on the shoulder. “Good man. Thank you, John. I’m pretty sure you’re officially our savior now,” he chuckled. “I’m sure Freddie will be forever in your debt and I know Rog will appreciate having heat again.”

John smiled weakly. “Good, I’m glad I could help you all. So uhh… when are we going out for drinks? I could really use one right about now,” he chuckled nervously.

Brian smirked and nodded. “No worries. We’ll probably be going in an hour or so. Come on, let’s go see what the others are up to, yeah?”

The bassist seemed to relax and nodded before he followed Brian out to the living room where Freddie had his arms around Roger.

“What’s all this, then? Having fun without us?” Brian teased.

Roger looked like he was too physically exhausted to fight Freddie’s affections so he had given in, resting against the singer.

“Oh Rog and I were just talking about where we wanted to go for drinks! I’d like to go to The Yard but Roger wants to go The Whisky-A-Go-Go.”

Brian chuckles. “Well sorry, Fred, but Rog wins this one; The Yard is a gay bar and that’s one you’ll have to go to on your own.”

Freddie huffed and rolled his eyes but smiled slyly. “Oh fiiiine. And you call yourselves open-minded.”

Roger chuckled now, watching John sit in an armchair across from them, his legs tucked into his chest comfortably. “We are, Fred. Just not _that_ open-minded.”

“Fair enough, darling.” Freddie threw his arms up before crossing them across his chest.

Brian sat down on the other side of Roger and wrapped an arm behind the drummer’s head but made sure he wasn’t exactly touching him. He relaxed when he felt the other man ease into his body, though and let him, knowing that it helped to relax Roger.

Freddie looked over at John who was looking between Roger and Brian with questioning eyes but remained silent. The singer smiled at him. “So do you have anybody to love, John?”

The bassist tore his eyes away from the two men to look at Freddie. “Hm? Oh, no. I mean, I had someone… for a while but… it didn’t work out. We broke up a few weeks ago. Do you, Freddie?”

“I prefer to engage in temporarily love, dear. A new love every other night.”

Roger scoffed and shook his head. “I’m the exact same way but you call me a whore.”

“At least I keep in touch with my one-night stands, Rog! You just hump them and dump them!” Freddie protested.

Brian laughed softly before he looked over at John who was tentatively laughing as well.

Roger sighed. “Excuse me if I don’t want them in my lives, harassing me about who I’m currently sleeping with. They don’t need to know everything I do.”

“Or every _one_ you do, dear.”

Roger snickered now, shaking his head before he threw a pillow at Freddie hard.

Freddie screeched but he caught it mid-air. “Watch the face, darling. This is where all the magic happens.”

“Come on, I’m tired of waiting,” Roger stood up slowly. “Let’s go out right now.” He walked over and grabbed his coat before putting it on.

Brian, Freddie and John all stood up as well, mimicking the same actions.

“You’re just itching for a smoke,” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, Bri. It’s been _hours_ since my lunch one!” Roger insisted.

“Well come along then, Deaky. You’ll see Roger’s true colors tonight, if nothing else,” Freddie declared, grinning.

“Deaky?” John questioned.

Freddie looked between Roger and Brian before looking over at John. “I’m sorry, John. Is that too informal of a nickname? You’ll have to forgive me. Sometimes I just run my mouth…”

John shook his head before chuckling. “No, no, Deaky’s fine. I like it. It’s just that no one’s ever called me it before.”

“Good, then Deaky you shall be!”

Brian and Roger both laughed and slapped a hand on John’s back playfully before leading them towards he van, all the men piling in as they got ready for a night out.


	3. don't lose your head

**.     .     .**

The guys threw playful jokes at each other just about the whole ride there and it didn’t stop even after they were inside the bar, the air warm from the numerous bodies.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” The bartender looked at Freddie’s group.

“Four beers, please,” the singer answered.

John appeared a bit nervous as he cleared his throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t drink after all. One of us should be sober enough to drive us back home, yeah?”

Brian gently tapped him and leaned in. “No worries, mate. I always usually just have one and call it quits. Feel free to have fun though tonight. You deserve it.”

The bassist shook his head with a good-humored smirk on his face but took a sip of his beer once Freddie had handed it to him. Brian handed Roger his drink and noticed that the drummer had been awfully quiet since they arrived. When he turned to look at him, he saw that he was looking antsy, sighing and absentmindedly scratching at his arm.

He hated to let him do what he was about to do but he hated seeing him like this more. It made him feel bad for the other man.  “Go on and have a fag, mate.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he pulled out his cigarette package and pulled one out before placing it between his lips and lit it before shoving the package back into his pocket.

Freddie chuckled at the action and rolled his eyes before leading the group to a booth where they could all pile into.

John sipped his beer and watched Roger enjoying his smoke, seemingly trying to take his time with it, embracing each inhale.

Freddie downed his drink in good time before he headed over to the bar to get more beers for the table and himself. When he got up, Brian glanced from Roger to John, breaking the silence.

“So Deaky, where do you live? Close to our flat or not really?”

John was surprised by the sudden voice and perked up. “Umm… it’s about twenty minutes away.  It’s not too bad. Have you guys been living in the flat together long?”

Brian shrugged, taking another drink. “It was just Roger and I to start and we were living together because of uni for about three or four years, and then we met Freddie. We started playing together and it made sense for him to move in with us after a while, so then it became the three of us.”

John nodded, giving a small smile. “Yeah, sure. That does make sense.”

Roger suddenly stood up now and Brian watched as he made his way over to the bar, seeing him order another beer. John tensed up now and looked at the guitarist in confusion.

“Brian, isn’t Freddie coming back with more beers shortly?”

The man didn’t seem too worried. “Oh, yeah. When we go out with new people, Roger sometimes likes to just… do his own thing so we just let him, for better or worse. Sometimes he just needs to get things out of his system.”

John still didn’t quite understand but he didn’t continue to question the drummer’s actions. He leaned closer to Brian so he could hear him. “Is he all right? I mean, because of earlier? I didn’t hear much but i-it sounded like he might’ve been really upset.”

Brian smiled at the concerned tone in the bassist’s voice. “Yeah, like I said, just… meeting new people sort of does this to him. His anxiety just starts going through the roof but I think it’s my fault, really. I should’ve slowly folded you into the band instead of all at once in one day. It was probably too much for him.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, realizing he wasn’t sure what else to say, but knew he felt guilty that his presence had been the cause of Roger’s panic attack earlier.

Brian shook his head and waved him off dismissively. “No, no. It wasn’t your fault at all, John. You didn’t know about it. Like I said, my fault. He’ll get better in time with you being around, I promise. Don’t take it personally or anything, okay? I promise he’s not a total dickhead all the time. It’s just his anxiety.”

The younger man nodded. “Yeah, of course. Thanks, Brian.”

“Sure thing,” he finished his beer and pushed the glass forward just as Freddie came back with three more beers in his hands, setting them down on the table.

“You can have a couple of these, John,” Freddie announced. “I saw that Rog’s at the bar already. Usually he wouldn’t be alone until later.”

“He’s having a rough day,” Brian explained, to which Freddie gave a sympathetic look towards the bar before looking back at the guitarist.

 “Poor dear.”

John took one of the fresh beers, having already downed his first one as well. He dove right in, feeling like he needed a few more drinks to stop the feeling of guilt swimming around inside of him.

“John,” Brian changed the subject now. “I didn’t hear earlier when you were talking to Roger… how long have you been playing bass?”

“Oh, umm… six years. How long have you been playing guitar?” John asked politely, wanting to seem like he was taking an interest in them as much as they were in him.

Brian chuckled. “Oh, years. Years and years. I don’t even remember the day when I first picked up a guitar, honestly. It was a long time ago. My friend had a guitar but he never played it so he gave it to me and I’ve been playing it ever since.”

John smiled at that thought. He liked how enthusiastic Brian was about playing guitar. “Who would you say is your favorite guitarist?”

“Jimmy Page,” Brian answered automatically.  “What about you and bass players?”

John thought about it. He respected and looked up to John Paul Jones but he knew there were others as well. Anyway, he didn’t want to copy Brian with a Led Zeppelin member in case it looked like he were trying to impress him.

“Jack Bruce.”

Brian took this in and nodded in thought. “Cream… all right, I can respect that,” he chuckled. “There are a lot of good bassists out there…”

Freddie was looking almost bored with the conversation, his eyes scanning the floor for more interesting people. He quickly finished his second beer and then stood up as a song came on. “Excuse me, darlings. I’m going to go have some actual fun.”

“Go on, then,” Brian rolled his eyes, smirking at John. He watched him leave their sight and then glanced over at the bar before looking back at John. “Will you be all right here for a few minutes on your own, John? I just want to go check on Roger real quick. I promise I’ll be back.”

John quickly got out of the booth so Brian could get out before he sat down again. “Yeah, sure. It’s fine,” the bassist reassured him, nodding.

Brian placed a gentle hand on John’s shoulder. “Thanks, John. I’ll be back soon.” He waited for the other man to acknowledge his promise before he walked over to the bar, standing close to Roger. “What number are you on?” He pointed to Roger’s almost finished beer.

“Umm… four or five I think now?” The drummer replied, shrugging.

Brian leaned against the bar. “Doing all right, Rog?”

The other man shrugged again and then finished his pint before he motioned for another one to the bartender before taking out another cigarette and lit it, taking a drag. He glanced up at Brian.

“How’s John? Hold up, did you just leave him alone?” he asked him in disbelief, turning to look at the table and seeing him sit alone there.

Brian sighed. “First of all, he’s a grown man. Second of all, I can still see him from here. He’s fine, Rog. I’m asking how _you’re_ doing, though. If I was worried about him as much as I am about you, I’d have stayed at the table. Anyway, you’re the one over here chain smoking even though you’ve promised me you would cut back on doing that…”

Roger scoffed and took another drag before he stood up, barely reaching Brian’s chin. “I’ve cut back! I kept my promise. Excuse me if I can’t be as perfect and sober as you!”

The remark took Brian back but he knew that this was the drummer’s anxiety talking. Roger always got angry and defensive when he was feeling the pressure. He placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders.

“You know I’m not perfect and I’m only sober because someone’s gotta drive us home. I know you’re only like this because of how you’re feeling but don’t take it out on us. We’re here to help you and it’s not fair. I’ll leave you alone. Just come and find us when you want to go home.”

Roger nodded and sighed, sitting back down on the stool and taking another drag. “Yeah, all right.”

Brian looked at the man with soft eyes even though he knew Roger wasn’t looking at him anymore. He playfully ruffled his hair before he walked back to the table and sat down but made sure he could still see his friend.

“Sorry, Deaky. I just… worry about him constantly. He feels more like a brother to me than a friend,” Brian apologized when he glanced over at the bassist.

John was finishing his second beer now when he looked up. “No, it’s fine. I understand, Brian. Really, it’s sweet, actually, that you care so much about Roger.”

The other man chuckled and shrugged. “I mean, I know Freddie cares about him too, but he’d rather do his own thing most of the time simply because… he’s Freddie, and does what he wants to do when he wants to do it.”

John nodded in understanding and the two men changed the subject again from Roger to John’s home life, where he went to school and his past relationships. Brian had watched the bassist finish a third beer about an hour later when he heard yelling.

“Shit… Roger,” he explained when John gave a confused look. He stood up and hurried back over to the bar to see the drummer pushing and shoving a man about Brian’s height with an extra ten pounds of muscle.

He put himself between the two men now and looked at Roger who was obviously shitfaced now, his shirt ruffled and he was stumbling.

Brian looked at Roger. “We’re going now. Go wait outside for us, yeah? I have to get John.”

“This fucking prick started it!” Roger argued, trying to get past Brian to punch the other man, Roger’s hands shaking with anger.

“I don’t care!” Brian yelled at him now. “Go! Outside, now, Rog!” He waited until Roger took his money out and slapped it on the bar to pay for his drinks before he finally conceded and stormed outside towards the exit.

He took a deep breath, glanced at the other man who looked both confused by the confrontation and walked past him, over to the table again.

“John? Come on, mate. We’re going to head back home now,” Brian told him.

The bassist instantly stood up, nodding, not about to argue. He was more than ready to go home anyway. “What about Freddie?”

Brian gave a small smirk. “Don’t worry; we’ll see him tomorrow morning. Roger’s waiting outside.”

John followed the other man outside now and saw Roger smoking another cigarette as he paced, like an angry tiger in a cage. Brian walked over to Roger and cupped his hands around Roger’s head so he was holding his face gently.

“You’re all right, Rog, but you need to calm down…”

“I’m fine!” He pushed Brian off of him and started to pace again, taking a deep drag off his cigarette. “Stop it!”

John looked on, baffled by Roger’s sudden behavior; the drummer hadn’t seemed to mind Brian’s touching earlier in the bar. What had changed? Was it the fight?

Brian didn’t look surprised in the least by his friend’s conduct or his anger. He just sighed heavily, looking somewhat apologetically at John before looking back at Roger when they suddenly heard laughter coming from nearby.

Two men were standing outside drinking and watching Roger.

“A lover’s quarrel! Watch out now!” The other man laughed hysterically now.

Roger turned to face them now and stormed over towards them before Brian knew what was happening. He suddenly watched as Roger flicked his still lit cigarette at the one man’s chest, watching the ash fall onto the ground before he started over to his friend.

“What’s that now? You want to say that again, you fuck?” Roger challenged, shoving the closest one.

The other man suddenly punched him now. “Yeah you’re a fucking poof!”

Roger spit out the blood from his now cut lip but quickly recovered, punching the one who slurred him hard in the face. It was now when Brian moved between them, putting his hands gently on Roger’s chest but firm enough to force him away from the fight.

John looked on in horror, wanting to do something but not sure what he _could_ do. He moved closer towards Roger and Brian tentatively when he saw the injured man’s friend coming towards Brian, about to hit the guitarist.

“Brian! Behind you!” John shouted.

The taller man turned around just in time to get clocked by the guy, getting punched in the face. He staggered a little but continued to push Roger away, forcing them towards the van quickly. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

They piled into the van, Roger in the passenger seat, and John in the back but close enough to hear conversations.

Brian glanced over at John in the back. "You can come back with us tonight and sleep in Freddie's room. I'll drive you to get your car tomorrow." He heard John give a soft hum of acknowledgement before he glanced over at Roger and then looked back to the road. 

It was a quiet trip home, the only sound in the van was the sound of Roger flicking his lighter to light another cigarette, the smoke wafting in the van until Brian opened his window to give John some relief.  When they arrived home, the three men entered the flat.

Brian looked at Roger who looked worse than ever, his lip still bleeding slightly. “You can sleep in my room tonight. I’ll be in there in a few, okay?”

Roger nodded silently, seemingly looking a bit ashamed now before he trudged into Brian’s bedroom. The guitarist turned to John now.

“I-I’m so sorry, Brian,” John stammered now. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Brian chuckled and smiled softly. “I know. It’s not your fault. You were just trying to warn me. It probably would’ve been worse if you hadn’t, to be honest. I’m grateful. Black eyes heal.”

John swallowed hard but nodded. “And Roger? Tonight was intense. Does that always happen with him when you go out?”

Brian shrugged. “I promise it’s not usually this bad, only when his anxiety is out of control. You probably saw his true colors though, and I’m glad you did. If you’re going to be a part of this band, this… family, then it’s good that you see his true self.”

John looked a little shaken as he shifted his weight. “Will… he be okay?”

“He will,” Brian nodded. “Eventually. I’ll talk to him tonight in a bit, but he’ll be okay once what’s bothering him is solved. He’s having some issues with his class so I’ll help him out with that and his anxiety shouldn’t be as bad after that. I know he might be being… difficult right now but just… listen if he wants to talk, give him space when he doesn’t, and don’t treat him any differently than you normally would, yeah?”

John gave an understanding smile and nodded. “Yeah, no problem, Brian. I’m going to head to bed now. I think those beers are getting to me now.”

Brian chuckled and messed up the younger man’s hair. “Goodnight, John.”

John also laughed before he started towards Freddie's room. “Night, Brian.”

The guitarist waited until he was in his room before he walked into his own bedroom and closed the door, seeing Roger near the open window but could see he wasn’t smoking this time; he just needed fresh air to calm him down. His adrenaline was probably pumping though his veins.

“All right, Rog?” He saw the man nod weakly. “You had quite the eventful night. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Roger looked over at him now and shrugged. “Sorry.”

It was a sincere apology that made Brian’s heart ache. “Go on and get changed into pajamas. I’ll be right back.” He watched as Roger obeyed and headed to the bathroom, grabbed a clean washcloth and wet it before he grabbed a cotton ball and hydrogen peroxide and headed back to the bedroom.

He saw Roger sitting on the bed but now there was a Led Zeppelin record playing softly in the room; it was bluesy.

Brian quietly sat down across from him and opened up the peroxide before he put some on the cotton ball carefully.

“Are you angry at me?” Roger asked softly. Brian felt that ache in his chest again.

“No, I’m not angry, Rog. You know that. I just wish you wouldn’t put yourself in these situations sometimes, that’s all.” He dabbed at the drummer’s cut lip and watched as the man winced and hissed in pain.

“What was I supposed to do? You heard what he called us, because he saw you touching me!”

Brian wet his lips and continued to dab at the cut, wanting to get rid of any bacteria or chance of infection. “You could have, and should have, just walked away, Roger. I know that’s a difficult concept for you to grasp but it’s better than getting into a fight. We can’t go to gigs like this. It makes us look bad.”

Roger scoffed. “I was defending us, Bri!”

“Why did it even bother you that he called us that, Roger?” The other man asked, leaning back to look at him. “It’s not like we _are_ gay, and even if we were, there’s nothing wrong with that, right? You seemed offended about it.”

Roger sighed now, quiet for several moments before he answered. “It’s not that, Bri. I know there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m fine with Freddie. I don’t think of him any differently. He’s still my best friend. I just… I hated the word. I felt like… he was calling Freddie it instead of us and I just – I just couldn’t take it. He deserved to get punched back.”

A part of Brian felt his heart swell with pride for standing up for the singer even though the slur wasn’t meant for him. He felt pride that Roger could be so open-minded enough that he knew there wasn’t anything wrong with being gay.

“I’m glad that you thought that way,” he admitted to the drummer. “I am, I just wish you hadn’t reacted the way you did. If Freddie was there and they had been talking about him, then… I probably would’ve stepped in and joined you but… Fred wasn’t there, and we were. All of this anger is your anxiety building up. You know that, right?”

Roger nodded now and took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry, Bri. I just… snapped. I thought the smoking and the drinks would help me but… it didn’t.”

Brian threw out the cotton ball and set the peroxide down on the table beside the bed. “Because alcohol is a depressant and it basically cancels out the stimulant of smoking. Plus, it’s probably not good that you’re so dependent on the smokes, Rog. It might relax you for a few minutes but then you just want more and more because you’re so used to chain smoking on the weekends now.”

Roger took this in and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed and moved to lay down in the bed, covering himself up. Brian didn’t bother to stop the record but turned it down a little more; he knew the music helped Roger go to sleep at night.

He climbed into bed now too and faced Roger as he covered himself up. He gently reached up and moved the locks out of Roger’s face. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

He saw Roger visibly tense now but he needed to know. It was an important question and if Roger did, then Brian would, without further question.

“No,” Roger whispered. “I’m fine with it, really. I was just angry earlier when I mentioned that. It… helps though, when I feel bad, you know? I just… feel like I’d be worse without it.”

Brian felt a selfish surge of relief and he nodded. “Okay. I’m just making sure.”

Roger smiled but then cringed in pain, forgetting about his lip. “Oww, fuck.” He sighed before he rested his head on the pillow.

“You’ll heal in a week or so,” Brian reassured him as he did the same.

“How are you the one fixing me up and telling me when I’m going to heal? You’re an astrophysicist!  I studied biology and the human body. I took a first aid class!”

Brian chuckled before he wrapped an arm around the shorter man. “It helps when you actually pay attention to the material instead of the women in class.”

Roger laughed now before he gently shoved Brian but then rested against him, feeling safer near him. He sighed tiredly and the two men soon drifted off to sleep.


	4. you're my best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was kind of a nonsense chapter but I wanted to add some more angst for funsies. If you guys have any suggestions for this fic, let me know! I might add it in!

**.     .      .**

The next morning, Roger felt the pain of last night’s punch as it throbbed throughout his face. If he was in pain, he could only imagine how much pain his friend was feeling. He looked over and saw Brian peacefully sleeping beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest calming for Roger.

He heard the skipping of the needle on the record and quietly walked over before he shut the player off and then sat back down on the bed, taking a deep breath. There was a few moments of silence in the darkened room when suddenly Roger heard Brian’s sleepy voice.

“You all right, Rog?”

The drummer turned to look at Brian who had dark bruises under his eye from last night. He lay back and rested his head on Brian’s chest, soon feeling his fingers combing Roger’s blonde hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Brian echoed, chuckling quietly. “Last night was interesting.”

Roger shrugged as he replayed the scene from last night in his head, slowly feeling the anger towards those fuckers all over again. He looked down at his hands.

There was another long moment between them but it felt uncomfortable, tense. Roger’s thoughts trailed back to his class and he could feel his heartrate increasing again. He felt Brian shift their bodies so Roger was sitting up again and the guitarist was sitting in front of him.

“Talk to me, Rog. What’s going on, mate?”

The drummer clenched and unclenched his fists on the bed before he took a deep breath. “I just feel so angry,” he sighed.

Brian searched his face patiently. “What are you angry about, Roger?”

The drummer shrugged again before letting out a humorless laugh. “E-Everything,” he said breathily, avoiding Brian’s eyes now. “Those assholes from last night, the professor in my class…”

“That’s only two things. I wouldn’t classify that as everything, Roger. First of all, don’t worry about those guys from last night. You got your punches in, it’s over. Secondly, your professor is an idiot who gets off on embarrassing their students. Don’t worry about all of that, yeah? When’s your next exam?”

“Monday.”

“Okay,” Brian gave a small smile. “It’s in two days. You have time to study, and I’ll help you today, okay? I promise it’ll be all right. I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now but just take it one hour at a time. Focus on what you need to do an hour from now.”

Roger nodded in understanding before he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go shower.”

Brian gently rubbed in circles on his friend’s back before nodding. “Okay. I’ll go start the coffee if someone hasn’t already. Are you hungry?”

Roger seemed to hesitate as he shook his head.

“Okay. Go on then.”

Roger stood up and left the room before Brian got dressed and headed into the kitchen, surprised to see John already up and sitting at the table, coffee already brewed in the machine. He grabbed two cups and poured one for himself before he looked over at the bassist.

“Sleep well?”

John gave a small smile and nodded. “Yes, thanks again for letting me spend the night here. Is Roger awake yet?”

Brian took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, he’s up. Just showering. I’m sorry about last night, John. I promise that doesn’t happen all the time, just… when Roger’s feeling especially bad. It’s like he _wants_ to get into fights or something. It’s bloody annoying.”

John gave a goodhearted chuckle. “It’s all right, no worries. How is doing today? Any better?”

The guitarist rose his eyebrows and sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, no,” he scratched his temple. “He gets angry when he’s overwhelmed and quiet, so that’s what’s going on this morning.”

John looked up with interested eyes. “Why does he get angry? I mean, not judging him or anything but I’m just… genuinely curious.”

Brian waited a beat, perhaps making sure that Roger was still showering and they weren’t at risk at being overheard. “I don’t know for sure, but… I think it’s because he has his own routine and way of doing things and when things are out of his control and his routine is broken, even slightly, then he gets frustrated and anxious. He doesn’t know how to deal with it all so it comes out as anger. Again, I’m only guessing here…”

John shrugged. “It makes sense to me.”

Brian smiled softly at him. “Hungry?”

“Umm… sure. I could eat,” he nodded. “Hey, did Freddie ever come home last night?”

The guitarist popped four pieces of bread into the toaster before he opened up the fridge and then closed it. “Nope, usually when he comes home after a night out, he’ll empty a carton of juice but it’s still in there.”

John watched him, sipping his own coffee. “You’re not worried about him?”

Brian smirked and shook his head. “Nah, he does this sometimes. We’ll go out, he’ll dance a bit, find someone else to go home with, and then he’ll come back here the next morning.”

The bassist chuckled before he nodded. “Ah, I see.”

Roger walked into the kitchen now, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants before he poured his own coffee and sat down beside John. At that moment the toast popped up and Brian spread jam on all four of the pieces before he put two on a place and slid them in front of John, two on another and slid it in front of Roger.

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” the drummer spoke, frustration laced in his voice.

Brian sighed and looked at him. “I know, but you need to eat, Rog.”

The drummer looked at the toast before he pushed it away. “I don’t want it,” he said again.

The other man sighed, not wanting to force the food on Roger but he also wanted him to eat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually seen him eat, and that worried him. If he was as bad as he thought Roger was, then he probably hadn’t eaten properly for at least a couple days. He knew what would happen then.

“If you eat the toast then you can have an extra cigarette today,” Brian bribed.

John raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the drummer who now seemed a bit more interested in the toast, pushing the plate back towards him as he picked it apart and ate it slowly. He looked back at Brian who didn’t look proud at bribing the man, simply shrugging.

The three men drank their coffee and ate their food in a somewhat comfortable silence for about forty minutes when they heard the front door open and saw Freddie walk in, dressed in what he was wearing last night, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Have fun last night?” Brian smirked.

Freddie cast him a smirk back. “I always have fun, darling. How’s everyone here doing?” He looked from John to Roger before looking back at Brian.

“The usual,” Brian said simply, not wanting to talk about Roger in front of Roger.

Freddie walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee before turning to his band mates. “Wow, were just chatty Cathies today, aren’t we? Really, everyone simply needs to stop talking at once.”

“Excuse us if we aren’t as chipper as you are, Freddie,” Roger snapped bitterly.

“Chipper? I’m not chipper, dear. I’m hungover. I barely got any sleep last night, in fact. I just felt like having some coffee.” He took another drink of the warm liquid. “I can’t believe how warm it is in here! What a wonderful change from the bitter cold we were feeling the other day. Thank you, John, for fixing it.”

John blushed a little bit. “I-It was nothing, really.”

“So modest,” Freddie smirked before turning his attention to Roger. “Tell Auntie Freddie what’s wrong, Rog. If you can’t tell us what’s wrong, then we can’t help you.”

Brian stiffened and shook his head warningly. “Fred…”

The singer ignored him. “Sooo…? What’s going on, Rog? Break up with another girlfriend?””

“Just… please leave me alone, Fred,” Roger leaned back in his chair.

The singer looked surprised. “I’m only trying to help, darling!”

“I don’t want you to help!” Roger suddenly yelled, knocking the plate to the floor, shards of glass flying everywhere. “Leave me alone!”

Brian watched as the drummer stormed outside. In just his pajamas, he knew what was going to do. He sighed and then walked back over to where Roger had been sitting and started to clean up the plate. “Sorry, John. He’s being difficult this morning.”

“That’s the understatement of the year, dear.”

John shook his head before he started to help Brian with the broken plate. “Please, you don’t need to keep apologizing for him, Brian. He’s… not well.”

“Yeah, well… it doesn’t give him an excuse to take it out on everyone else.” Brian threw out the broken plate before he washed his hands and poured himself a second cup of coffee.

John bit his lip unsurely. “He has a mental illness. It’s chemical, yeah? He can’t exactly control how he feels.”

“Maybe not,” Brian agreed. “But he can still attempt to control how he reacts to it.” He finished off his coffee and then walked outside where Roger was taking a drag from his cigarette.

He looked up and saw the dark rainclouds overhead, threatening to spill rain droplets at any given moment. He moved over to the drummer. “You could have hurt someone when you broke the plate. You shouldn’t have done it.”

Roger sighed and leaned against the brick building. “Sorry.”

Brian watched him inhale the smoke and hold it into his lungs before he exhaled again. He walked over to stand in front of the other man.  “Tell me how you want me to help you, Roger. Just tell me what you want me to do. I don’t know unless you use your words and talk to me.”

Roger shook his head before he finished his cigarette and put it out before he lit up a second one, taking a drag from it. “I don’t know, Bri… I’m sorry, all right? I just… I don’t know how to deal with this. I can’t deal with John being around suddenly. It’s like one day he wasn’t there, now he is, and he’s not going anywhere. H-He’s new and different and I’m not used to him yet a-and it’s just… it’s too much. It’s too much, Brian.”

Brian nodded, having an idea that might be the cause. He could see tears prickling Roger’s eyes as the drummer looked away as he smoked, apparently trying to hide them.

“I’m sorry, Rog. This was my fault. I should’ve slowly integrated him in but I didn’t. Let me talk to him and we can figure something out, yeah?”

Roger suddenly tensed and looked at Brian, panic in his eyes. “Y-You’re going to tell him about it? How h-he’s the cause of some of my anxiety? He’ll fucking hate me, Bri. Please, don’t do that.”

The guitarist didn’t want to tell him how he had already told John about this. That wouldn’t go over well and he didn’t want to upset Roger more than he already was.

“No, I’m going to drive him back to the auditorium to get his car and see if he has anything else he needs to do back at his place. It’ll give you some time away from him,” Brian suggested.

This made Roger relax slightly and he nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He took another drag before he put it out and looked at Brian, tears still in his eyes.

“I l-like him and he’s the best bassist we’ve heard. I don’t w-want him to quit or anything. I just… need time to adjust him being around all the time.”

“I know, Roger. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he gave him a weak smile before he gently grabbed the drummer’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug. He felt the other man hug him back before they both pulled away. “Ready to head back inside?” he asked as the first few droplets of rain hit his face.

Roger nodded and rubbed his eyes roughly, leading them both back inside the flat. When they arrived inside, Freddie and John were both laughing about something as they ate their toast and drank their coffee, the heaviness from earlier gone now.

“What are you two laughing about?” Brian asked.

“Oh, I was just telling him about how many times Roger’s been mistaken for a woman and been hit on inside the clubs, dear.”

Brian tensed and looked at their friend but Roger was chuckling at the thought and he relaxed again.

“It could’ve easily been Brian who was mistaken too!” Roger argued playfully, shrugging. “I’m sure there are plenty of dark and curly-haired women out there!”

John laughed louder, followed by Freddie and Brian.

“Maybe, darling, but none as attractive as you, apparently.”

Roger scoffed but was smirking as decidedly poured himself another cup of coffee, finishing off the pot, and then walked over and sat on the sofa.

Freddie announced he was going to go shower and quickly disappeared, and Brian decided to take the opportunity to talk to John. He walked over and sat down beside the bassist who was now reading the paper.

“Hey, John… so I figured I’d drive you back to the college to grab your car today.”

The other man nodded approvingly. “Oh, right. Of course. I actually have a few things I have to do today so I might not be back until later tonight, if that’s all right.”

“Why wouldn’t it be all right?”

“Oh, well… you know, as long as we’re not practicing today or anything?”

Brian nodded now in understanding. “Right, yeah, I have to help Roger with something for the next two days so I just figured we’d practice in a couple days. Hey, umm… do you have things you could do while I work with Roger?”

John looked a bit confused but he nodded. “Err… yeah, I suppose so. I’m a bit behind on my classwork and I have an exam coming up so I could definitely do with a bit of studying,” he paused in thought before realization touched his eyes. “Did… you want me to study at my place instead of bringing my things here?”

Brian searched his face. “If that’s okay. You have every right to say no, of course, but I’m trying to help Roger adjust to you suddenly being around and a couple days of not seeing you might help him with that.”

John nodded now but didn’t look upset or offended. “Sure, no problem. I want to help Roger any way I can so… of course I will hang back a couple days. Do you mind if I still call?”

“Of course you can call, Deaky. Please, by all means.”

John nodded and smiled. “Good. I’ll start getting ready then and meet you at your van in about ten minutes?”

Brian smiled. “Sure.” He watched John leave the room to get changed and then walked over to Roger but didn’t sit down. “I have to get dressed too. Will you be okay here alone until Freddie comes back out?”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Yes, dad. Jesus Bri, I’m not five years old. I _can_ take care of myself.”

“I know you can. I was just asking. I’m going to go drive Deaky to get his car in a bit. If you need anything, Fred will be around and I’ll be home in about an hour.”

“Okay,” Roger said, half listening. He looked up at the guitarist who looked worriedly back down at him. “I told you I’d be fine, Bri. Like you said, Freddie’s around if I need anything.”

The other man nodded and gave a small smile as John came back out. They left the flat and Roger was alone at the moment, watching television as he finished his coffee. He could feel his anxiety building up again as he was alone in the room but it quickly diminished as Freddie came back out and sat down beside Roger on the couch, whipping his damp, clean hair.

“Feeling any better, Rog?” He wrapped an arm around the other man and looked at him.

“Yeah, thanks, Freddie. I’m better now.” He leaned into Freddie’s hug and the two of them relaxed against each other like that for a while.

 

**…. .. ….. .. ….. .. ……. … …….**

“Christ, Bri! I don’t know how many bones are in the human skull! I’m never going to get this!” Roger yelled, throwing one of his dentistry books across the floor.

“Calm down, Rog. You’ve got this. Just take a breath and think about it, all right?” Brian encouraged patiently as he bent down and grabbed the book, placing it back on the bed.

Brian had taken John back to his car before coming back as quick as he could and he had convinced Roger to start studying and that he would help him. He asked Roger questions but the other man was growing impatient again as the more questions he got wrong increased.

Roger scoffed and ran a hand over his face before he took a deep breath, taking a moment to think. “Wait, i-is it 21?”

“Close,” Brian said, somewhat impressed. “It’s 22.”

“Ah, right.”

“What are the two parts that divide a skull?” Brian looked at the diagram in the book.

Roger groaned as he tried to recall the information, sighing. He rubbed his eyes and leaned forward intensely, his body stiff. “I don’t know.”

“This is really easy, Roger. Don’t let yourself get frustrated. Don’t overthink this, okay, mate?” He pointed to his head.

“Oh, umm… cranial?”

Brian nodded and then pointed to his cheek.

“Oh! Facial! Cranial and facial!”

Brian grinned now. “Yes! See? You know the material, Rog. Okay, how many bones in each part?”

Roger thought for a long time before he looked questioningly at Brian. “Cranial has 8 bones and the facial has 14, I think?”

Brian chuckled in delight and nodded. “That’s right!” He felt his heart warm when he saw Roger looking a little proud of himself now. “Okay, now name the 8 bones from the cranial bones.”

Roger clenched his jaw and squinted, trying to think. He was looking helpless. “Fuck! I’m never going to memorize that!”

“Hey, it’s all right, Roger. Look at me,” he pointed to his forehead.

“Frontal?” Roger questioned.

“Right, remember frontal because of the forehead, yeah? Okay, now this one,” he turned around and looked down at the diagram before he pointed to the back of his head.

Roger sighed in frustration, quiet for a bit. “Par… parietal!”

Brian nodded and pointed to the space near his ear on his face.

“Sphenoid.”

“Good.” Brian pointed to his right temple.

“Temporal,” Roger said right away.

“See? You’ve got this, mate.” He pointed to the bottom part of the back of his head.

Roger looked like he wanted to bit his lip but had enough restraint not to, remembering the butterfly stitches still holding his skin together. He shook his head. “I-I don’t remember.”

“Occipital,” Brian replied.

“Damn it. That’s right…”

Brian looked back down in the book. “Okay, last one.” He pointed to the bridge of his nose now.

Roger searched his face and shook his head at first before he suddenly froze and looked at the guitarist. “Ethmoid?”

Brian nodded excitedly. “You did it, Roger! Good job.”

The other man didn’t look excited, though. He looked disappointed. “I can’t remember all of them, though. We’ll have to label them and I won’t be able to do it and then she’ll just embarrass me again.”

Brian thought for a moment before he grabbed a pad and paper and started to write something out. He looked down at it before he looked at Roger. “This isn’t a problem, Rog. You just need a way to memorize what order they’re in on the face. Remember this: Freddie Parties Supposedly To End Others. Frontal, Parietal, Sphenoid, Temporal, Ethmoid, Occipital.”

Roger laughed now. “Whaaat….? That makes absolutely no sense! What does he end? Other parties or other people? And how does that even work?”

Brian groaned and reached forward before he messed up Roger’s hair in playful frustration but then chuckled. “It doesn’t have to make sense! Whichever way you want to think! Let’s say… that Freddie parties to end other parties. He parties… so massively and for so long that it somehow has the power to put other parties to shame, ending them early. There! It makes sense now.”

Roger laughed again, grinning. “Wow. Well, I guess you’re not wrong, Bri.” He took his textbook back to look at the diagram. “It could work,” he finally agreed.

The two men continued to study for another two hours before they decided to break for lunch, having cheese on toast with tea, and then getting back to it. The day escaped them as they studied together until Roger felt confident enough to call it quits for the day, allowing them time to relax until tomorrow. Freddie challenged them to several games of Scrabble and got angry when the drummer started only doing words from his Dentistry textbook, leaving Freddie baffled beyond belief, scratching his head.

“That’s not even a word, darling!” he would argue.

“No, Fred, it is a word! It’s right here!” he shoved the book in Freddie’s face. “See?”

Brian sighed and reached across to look at the book before giving in, shrugging.

“This is utterly ridiculous, Brian! He’s blatantly cheating!”

Roger was looking pretty proud of himself.

“I don’t care,” Brian admitted. “As long as it helps him retain the information. Just let him. You win every game anyway!”

Freddie smirked before he showed Brian the scorecard. “Most of these words are twenty plus points! It’s simply unfair, darling!” He was laughing, which made Brian laugh, which was making Roger absolutely roar with laughter now.

After a while no one could pull themselves back together because their eyes were all filled with tears from laughing so hard, holding their sides as their bodies started to ache. Somehow they all ended up laying on the floor next to each other, their arms interlocking as their heads rested on the opposite men’s shoulders right before they fell asleep.


	5. good company

**.    .    .**

When Roger had woken up the next morning, he noticed Freddie still curled up close to him, peacefully sleeping but as per usual, Brian was awake, showered, dressed and making coffee. The drummer carefully untangled himself from the other man before he walked over to the counter, rubbing his eyes sleepily before grabbing his book nearby and sitting down.

“Good morning,” the guitarist greeted, his voice quiet as to not wait Freddie.

“Morning,” Roger acknowledged, also quiet.

Brian poured him a cup of coffee before setting it in front of him. He watched as his friend lit his morning cigarette and took a drag before he exhaled and then took a sip of his coffee. It was exhausting scolding him for smoking all the time so he decided not to today; whatever helped Roger get through the day with the least amount of anxiety as possible.

“How’re you feeling today?”

Roger took another sip of coffee as the cigarette balanced elegantly between two fingers. He shrugged but gave a small smile. “All right. Last night helped, I think. How’re you feeling?”

Brian smiled back. “Good,” he ran his fingers through his hair. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is your anxiety?”

Roger thought about it for a minute before answering. He took a deep breath before he exhaled in calm contemplation.  “I’d say… about a four maybe?”

“That’s good, Rog. It’s a lot better than it has been lately.” Four seemed reasonable. John wasn’t here today so it was less stress, but his test was closer now than it was twelve hours ago, so there was that to help add to the anxiety and stress.

Roger nodded in agreement, taking another drag as he examined the diagram of the skull in the textbook. The two men were quiet for the next hour as Brian let him study silently before he grabbed the eggs from the fridge and popped bread into the toaster.

The small bit of noise woke Freddie up, but the singer didn’t complain as he wished the two men a good morning and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Roger looked up now and sighed.

“I hope that isn’t for me, Bri.”

“You need to eat, Rog. You won’t be able to think properly tomorrow if you’re starving yourself. It’s important that you eat.” Brian cracked three eggs into a pan before he added onions and peppers in it, occasionally stirring it.

Roger put out his second cigarette and poured himself a third cup of coffee before he sat back down. “W-Was… was John upset when you told him to stay at his place until tomorrow?”

Brian glanced up and looked over at Roger before he shook his head. “Nah, he said he had classwork to catch up on as well so it actually works out pretty well for both of you. He’ll be coming over for practice tomorrow after our classes, if that’s all right, though.”

“Yeah, fine,” Roger took a drink before he placed his book on the counter, tired of holding it on his lap. “So… is… is he going to be moving in with us?”

“What makes you think he would?” Brian put the omelet on a plate before putting the bread down. “Did he say something to you, Rog?”

The drummer shook his head. “No, he didn’t, but I just figured since Freddie’s moved in with us, it’d make sense if Deaky did as well. Then the whole band will be here.”

Brian thought about this and shrugged. “I don’t know if he plans on it or not. I’ll ask him when we see him again. What… would you think of it if he did…?” He glanced over at Roger curiously.

The blonde thought about it for a few moments. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean, it’d help us out on the rent a bit, and then we’d all be around to talk and practice. It makes sense logically.”

“I mean… how would _you_ feel about it, personally?”

Roger tongued the butterfly stitch on his lip unsurely. “It’d… be weird seeing him all the time after just hiring him as our bassist yesterday. I like him, I think he’s a nice guy, but… I don’t know, Bri. I just… don’t know him all that well yet.”

Brian buttered the toast and placed the plate in front of Roger before he turned to face him, his arms on the counter as he leaned against it. “We’d get to know him a lot better if he lived with us, and… you’re right, Roger; he would help out with the rent some. It does make sense logically, like you said, but I don’t want to make the offer if you’re not comfortable around him yet.”

Roger hated being like this. He _despised_ that his anxiety made him like this: untrusting, paranoid, afraid. John Deacon had done absolutely nothing to make him not trust him, and by all reason, he _should_ trust John, but he just couldn’t yet, and he hated himself for it.

He was making their living situation more difficult than it had to be. He looked down at the food and poked at it with his fork before he nodded in acknowledgement, quiet now as Freddie came in.

“Oooh eggs and toast? Do I get a plate as well, darling?”

Brian hesitated, looking at Roger. He wanted to continue this conversation but he knew Roger didn’t like talking about it in front of the singer. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Roger’s arm before he reluctantly turned around to look at Freddie as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, sure thing, Fred.” He cracked some more eggs into the pan before popping more bread into the toaster.

The singer turned to look at Roger who was still playing with his food silently. Guilt suddenly touched his eyes as he looked back at Brian.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to interrupt what looks to be a private conversation,” he apologized, appearing genuinely upset about it.

Brian gave him a reassuring smile. “No worries, Fred. We can finish it up later.”

Freddie still looked skeptical but when his food was done, he took his plate into his bedroom to eat it, considerately leaving the two men alone to finish their conversation. Sometimes, Freddie could be an absolutely prat, but then there were times like this when he knew when his presence wasn’t exactly wanted.

Brian turned over to Roger again. “ _Eat_ , please.”

Roger glanced up at the ‘please,’ and then shoveled a forkful of egg into his mouth, nodding in approval before eating another forkful of food.

“I’m not about to ask John if he wants to move in, so… don’t worry about this right now, okay?” He saw Roger nod. “We’ll practice with him and hang out with him a little more so you can get to know him better.”

Roger nodded again before swallowing his food and taking a bite of toast now. “You have to admit, though, if he hadn’t warned me about that one asshole, I’d probably have been knocked out cold instead of just having a black eye.”

The drummer smirked now, looking up at him. “I like it. It makes you look tough.”

Brian laughed now and shook his head. “You’re the fighter in this group, not me. Anyway, I _am_ tough.”

“Mentally, sure. Physically, though?” Roger playfully chuckled as Brian reached over and tussled the other man’s hair before he sat down beside him now.

Roger automatically put his legs up on Brian’s lap.

“Jesus, you’re so lazy, Rog,” he rolled his eyes.

Roger shrugged and took another bite. “You’re comfortable! It’s not my fault.”

The two men talked and joked until Freddie came back out with his plate and washed it in the sink about half an hour later.

“So what are our plans today, dears?”

Roger looked to Brian who chuckled and looked to Freddie. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m helping Roger study for his exam that’s tomorrow.”

Freddie looked a bit disappointedly but he nodded. “Oh, of course. All right, then. Where’s Deaky?”

“He’s back at his place catching up on classwork.”

Freddie sighed dramatically. “Oh you all are such bores! Well, I suppose I’ll have to go to the store alone for groceries, then.”

Brian straightened and looked at the singer with wide eyes. “No. You’re not going to the store alone again, Freddie. Last time you went alone, you came back with five boxes of sugary cereal and no milk.”

The man threw his arms up, smirking. “Then I guess one of you will simply have to come with me, won’t you?”

Brian sighed and looked at Roger who chuckled. “All right, I’ll go with him. You keep studying until we get back and then I’ll quiz you.”

The drummer tensed now and shook his head defiantly. “Wait, no way. I’m coming with you two!” He stood up and rushed to the bedroom to get dressed quickly.

Brian walked into the room a couple moments later, watching him get changed. “Why does this have to be a family affair? You have an exam tomorrow! I know what you’re doing here, Rog.”

Roger looked at him innocently but had mischief laced in his eyes. “What am I doing, Bri?”

The guitarist laughed in disbelief. “You’re procrastinating so you don’t have to stay here and study!”

“I don’t have any idea what on earth you’re on about, Brian,” Roger replied, obviously knowing exactly what the other man was talking about. “I just want company.”

“Fine,” Brian threw his hands up. “I’m done arguing. We won’t be too long, but when we come back home, you _are_ studying more!”

“All right, all right. Keep your panties on, Bri.” He headed back out eagerly and followed the two men out to the van before jumping into the shotgun seat.

 

**…… .. ……. .. …….. … ……… … ……….**

Brian regretted letting Roger tag along as soon as they got to the store. Instantly Roger was like a little kid in a candy store, wanting everything in sight and it led to Brian telling him no.

“Oh _come on_ ,” Roger pleaded. “I need it to help me study!”

Brian could feel a headache forming. “No, Rog, you don’t need it to study. It’s candy, it’s pure sugar, you’re just going to crash straight after.”

The drummer groaned but continued to follow them around, Freddie occasionally putting the basic necessities into the cart as they walked around Tesco’s. Brian didn’t say anything when he caught Freddie sneaking a couple candy bars into the cart; he just wanted to leave and the more time the spent in there, the more quiet Roger became, moving closer to the guitarist, which meant that his anxiety was increasing being around so many people for so long.

“We’re almost done, Rog,” he whispered to him gently, to which Roger simply nodded.

They moved into the bread aisle when they heard something that made Brian cringe.

“Look at _that_ ,” one of the men in the aisle chuckled. “He looks like one of those poofs walking on the corner looking for a quid!” The other man broke out into laughter as well.

Roger tensed and Freddie instantly placed his hand against Roger’s before he shook his head. “Don’t bother with them, darling. They’re just assholes,” he whispered to the drummer.

“Oh look now, he’s holding hands with him! They must be a fucked up love triangle. I knew that blonde one was a fag too…”

Roger clenched his jaw before he broke free from Freddie and started towards the men, his rage increasing with every step. Brian quickly reacted when he saw Roger do this and hurried in front of him, placing his hands on Roger’s arms firmly.

“No, not here, Roger! Just take a breath!” Brian advised.

The blonde was fighting against his friend to get at the fuckers. Like hell he was just going to let more people talk shit about one of his best friends. He’d get punched a thousand times for Freddie. Brian tried to hold him back but the drummer slipped past him quickly and shoved one of the men against the bread shelves, knocking some on the ground before he got one punch in.

“You fucking prick!” The other one shouted, walking towards him threateningly.

Brian got between them quickly now and shoved Roger away from them, a serious look on his face. “Stop it now, Rog! Just back up, yeah?”

“Get your boyfriend under control or else I’ll call the police! This is assault, you know!” The man yelled at Brian, drawing attention from curious eyes now.

Brian ignored him and pulled Roger over to the cart before getting out of the aisle and into a line to check out. He looked over at the drummer who was breathing heavily now as he tried to control his internal rage.

“I know you’re raging right now but you need to calm down, mate,” Brian urged as gently as he could even though he was feeling frustration towards the other man.

Roger clenched and unclenched his fists, taking casual deep breaths as he looked down at the floor. Freddie turned to face him, deciding to give it a go seeing that Brian wasn’t of much help.

“You really don’t need to keep getting into fights on my account, darling,” he said quietly to him. “Really, it’s not worth it.”

Roger shook his head in disagreement before looking at the singer with soft eyes. “ _You_ are worth getting into fights over, Freddie.”

Freddie pretended to look all flustered now and smirked. “Oh, Rog. You really are a sweetheart. It’s truly a shame you’re straight as a nail.”

Roger let out a weak chuckle before playfully shoving him. Freddie quickly got out of the way, accidentally knocking over a magazine rack near the checkout line. Roger started laughing a bit harder now, watching the scene unfold.

Brian sighed and leaned down to pick up the stand. “Come on now, children. Behave this instant.”

“Behaving is so overrated,” Freddie rolled his eyes. He smiled, seeing Roger starting to relax again and leaned into him, gently nudging him with his shoulder. “Do you think Brian ever misbehaves?”

Roger looked at the guitarist who glanced over at them as he starting to put things on the conveyor belt. “I think Bri’s idea of misbehaving is when he has more than one drink.”

Freddie snickered. “I _do_ think you’re right, Roger.”

Brian was still looking frustrated but had a shadow of a smirk on his face. “All right, all right. Go back to the van. I’ll get this done faster without having to supervise you two. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Roger pretended to look offended. “You’re kicking us out of the store? Us?” He started to move out of the line and yelped when Brian suddenly pretended to kick his butt with his foot.

“Go on!”

Freddie guided Roger out of the store and back to the van, Roger opting for the back until his friend came back again, sitting across from the singer.

“How are you feeling now, Rog? Any better?”

Roger shrugged but nodded. “A little, yeah. Thanks, Fred. I just… lost it in there. I guess I… just saw red, you know?”

“That’s the second time this week you’ve fought for my honor, I believe. You really must stop this silly behavior, Rog, darling. Really… it’s not necessary.”

The drummer raised his eyebrows. “What, so I should just let this fucking wankers just talk shit about you and slur you up and down then? What kind of friend would I be if I just let that happen?”

The singer smiled at him. “It’s not the first time I’ve been mocked for what I am and it surely will not be the last, dear. Anyway, it’s a waste of energy to expend so much hate on such a worthless creature, isn’t it?”

Roger looked back up at him now, taking in the singer’s words. “I feel worse if I just stand back and don’t do anything, Freddie. You’re one of my best friends and I can’t just let it happen.”

“I really am flattered but all it does is make Brian exasperated with you when you assault the men, and I certainly don’t feel good when you get hurt in the process too, darling,” he reached over and placed a thumb near the drummer’s healing lip. “Just promise me you’ll try to swallow your rage next time.”

Roger still wanted to do the exact opposite if there was a next time, but he also didn’t like upsetting Brian either. He nodded. “Fine. I’ll try, Fred.”

“Lovely,” the other man smiled. “How are you healing, by the way? Does it still hurt?”

Roger shrugged. “I’ve felt worse. I think Brian’s in worse shape than me; he got the full brunt of it,” then his mind trailed back to John and that night. “He warned him. Deaky tried to warn Brian that night.”

Freddie smiled brightly now and nodded. “I really think he’s a keeper, don’t you, dear? He’s such a good friend.”

Roger nodded, knowing he couldn’t argue with that, but then he thought about his anxiety around the other man and his mood started to fall as he grew quiet again. Brian came back about ten minutes later and Roger moved to the passenger seat while Freddie helped unload the bags into the van.

It was a quiet ride back to the flat. After they had taken care of the groceries, Freddie announced he was going to head out somewhere, leaving Brian and Roger alone.

Roger had decided to sit on the couch with his textbook, going over the parts of the skull again. Brian came over with a cup of tea for him and sat down beside him on the couch, turning the television on but turning it down to a low level so Roger could study. The two men were quiet for about an hour when the guitarist spoke.

“You know that I’m not actually angry at you for what happened at the store, don’t you, Rog?” he asked kindly.

Roger looked up at him and searched his face before he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good,” he sipped at his second cup of tea, watching as A Clockwork Orange started playing. “So what did you and Freddie talk about while you two were waiting for me earlier?”

Roger knew what the other man was doing; he was poking, prodding to see why Roger was being uncharacteristically quiet. He fought the urge to bite his lip. He shrugged.

“We talked about how… Freddie made me promise not to fight for him anymore,” he said honestly. “And… about John.”

Brian turned to him with interest. “Oh yeah? What about John?”

“Just how it was nice of him to warn you that night, and what a good mate he is.” Roger took out his cigarettes and lit one before he took a drag, feeling his anxiety increasing again.

Brian took the book out of his hands and placed it on the table. “Enough. You’re ready for this exam, Rog. Take a break.”

“Oi! What the hell? I need to study, Bri!”

The guitarist moved his legs apart to either side on the couch before he gently grabbed Roger’s arms and made him move back so the drummer was laying between his legs now comfortably, his head resting on Brian’s stomach.

“You know the material. You’ll ace the exam, I know it. Now shut up, and watch the movie with me.” Brian smirked to himself as he watched Roger sigh resoundedly before he made himself more comfy and turned his head to watch it.

This wasn’t an out of place occurrence where the two men did this but it was usually always Roger in the middle simply because of size alone. It made more sense for Brian to lay behind him. He knew that this calmed the drummer down when he was feeling most anxious, even if he was still smoking his cigarette. At least he knew that that cigarette would be his only one right now as long as they could lay like this.

They had found out a while back that it helped to have physical contact with each other but it always felt awkward, no matter how much they tried. Holding hands felt too intimate, but finally they found this way to be the best way.

He wasn’t sure what time it was now but as Brian gently ran his fingers up and down the drummer’s arms, Roger found himself falling asleep.

He woke up about an hour later to the sound of the phone ringing.

“Get up,” Brian ordered softly, rubbing his eyes. Apparently he had fallen asleep as well. Roger quickly got out of the way before he looked over at the television, seeing that the movie was nearing its end.

Brian hurried over to the phone and answered it on the fourth ring, clearing his throat before he spoke. “Hello?”

_“Umm, hey, it’s John.”_

Brian looked over at Roger before mouthing ‘it’s John.’ “Oh, hey, Deaky. How goes it?”

_“Yeah, it’s good. I’ve managed to catch up on most of my classwork. I just wanted to make sure it was all right still if I came over to practice with you all tomorrow.”_

“Yeah, of course it is, mate. We look forward to hanging out with you again tomorrow.”

_“Same. How’s Roger doing?”_

Brian smiled at the drummer who was still trying to wake up. “Yeah, he’s good. Would you like to talk to him?”

Roger looked over now and shook his head before making a slitting motion across his throat to say ‘no way.’

_“Err… it’s all right. I don’t want to cause him any more anxiety. I’ll just see you all tomorrow. I’ll just drive over so you don’t have to drop me back off.”_

Brian smirked and chuckled. “Yeah, all right. Thanks for calling. See you tomorrow, mate.” He hung up when he heard John hang up first and looked over at Roger.

“That was mean, Bri. What if he had actually wanted to talk to me?” Roger sighed.

“I knew he wouldn’t, Rog,” he sat down on the couch again. “He knows how your anxiety is right now, especially with him; he doesn’t want to cause you more stress.”

Roger nodded in understanding and sat down beside him. He glanced at the clock and saw it was only reading three in the afternoon. It was only three and he felt so bloody tired. He stood up again and stretched. “I’m going to lay down for a while.”

“Feeling all right, Rog?” Brian looked at him with concerned eyes.

Roger nodded but honestly he wasn’t so sure himself. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”  He waved at him before he walked into his own bedroom and crawled into his bed, welcoming his warm comfort of blankets.

He felt a heaviness hanging over him and he wasn’t entirely sure it was his anxiety this time. He knew what this was, but he just didn’t want to admit it, because if he admitted it, then it only got worse and worse. He swallowed hard before he wrapped his arms around himself and soon drifted back off to sleep with tears in his eyes.


	6. keep yourself alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to an influx of positive comments, here's another chapter!

**.     .      .**

Roger felt a cold chill running through his body and glanced over only to realize that Brian had slept in his own room last night. He pulled the comforters closer to him, burying himself in deeper, making sure his feet were completely covered as he shivered.

It was exam day and the drummer only felt like going back to sleep again, the blackness growing inside of him, a heaviness in his chest. He found himself loathing who he was, who has been this whole week, whole month, whole year.

A scared little boy.

Scared of being around people, scared of classes and professors, of his own bandmates even. John didn’t deserved this poor excuse of cold-shouldering. He felt angry as he felt the tears rise in his eyes once again, hugging his body.

 _They were all better off without him_.

If he was gone, then no one would have to deal with him and his anxiety anymore. He wouldn’t be around to hold them all back.

_What if they were still not famous because of him? Because he was afraid of playing in certain places?_

He swallowed hard, the tears now escaping his eyes. Fuck it; let him flunk out. He fucking hated dentistry anyway. He actually wanted to draw, but he knew that wasn’t exactly a reliable career to fall back on in case this rock star life fell through.

He froze, hearing footsteps and then feeling the mattress sink a little bit. Then an arm on his back over the comforter.

“Rog?”

Brian. Roger didn’t respond, pretending to be asleep still. Maybe if he didn’t get an answer, the guitarist would give up and go away.

“Rog, you should get up now, mate. You’ll be late for your exam.”

 _Shit_. He wasn’t going to leave.

Roger swallowed back a sob, unable to hold back his crying anymore. “I’m not going, Bri.”

“What? What the hell do you mean you’re not going? You’ve studied your ass off for this exam. You’re completely ready for it. You’ll ace it,” Brian encouraged, moving around to the other side of the bed so he could get a better look at his friend.

Roger shook his head before he looked at Brian with his red, swollen eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Bri. Just leave me alone.”

Brian forced the covers back to look at Roger and felt his heart sink at the drummer’s state. He searched his face before he wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close to him for several minutes and then released him, looking him in the eye again.

“Is there any way that you can take a mental health day today, make up the exam?”

Roger shook his head, his face going dark again. “I told you, there aren’t any makeups for her exams. If I miss it, then it’ll bring down my average.”

Brian gave him a sympathetic look. “You’re in no state to go there by yourself. At least let me drive you there and back again. After your exam, we can come back here and celebrate.”

Roger considered this but then shook his head. “I just want to be alone. I need to get ready.” He didn’t actually want to, of course, but he also didn’t want the low grade to affect everything else for the class. Plus, he _had_ studied really hard.

“Well, come on, then. Get up, try taking a shower, and I’ll make you some breakfast and coffee. Then we’ll leave.”

Roger didn’t have any energy to fight him anymore so he just nodded and forced himself out of bed before taking some clothes into the bathroom, the flat feeling cold as ice again.

Brian rubbed his eyes before he started the coffee and then began to get eggs and cheese out of the fridge just as Freddie hurried out, a long, bright blanket wrapped around him as he hurried to get to the stove as Brian turned it on under a pan, putting his hands out to warm them.

“What on _earth_ happened to the thermostat? I could have sworn John had fixed it!”

Brian shrugged and gave him a look. “I don’t know but he’s coming over again tonight. He can fix it again,” he gently forced the singer back a few inches with his arm. “Careful, Fred. You’re going to set yourself on fire, not to mention that you also happen to be in my way.”

Freddie obeyed the taller man and sat down at the table, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen nearby before he started to scrawl something down.

Brian moved the scrambled eggs around the pan after sprinkling the cheese in and poured a cup of coffee, setting it down in front of Freddie before doing the same with the plate of eggs. He looked down at the lyrics.

“New song?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s just an idea for now, darling. It came to me last night.”

Brian nodded in approval and went back to the kitchen. He made sure that he still heard the water running in the pipes before he cleared his throat. “I’m worried about Rog.”

Freddie looked up from the paper now. “Roger? Why?”

“This week has been difficult for him and he’s having trouble adjusting. He didn’t want to get up today and told me to leave him alone.”

Freddie searched his face. “That’s just Roger, darling. He’s always like that. He _always_ tells us to leave him alone when we wake him up. That’s not unusual.”

Brian shook his head and walked over to the table. “No, Fred. I _know_ Roger and I’ve seen him like this before. He was pretty severely depressed and he just keeps feeling worse and worse until…” he trailed off, afraid to say the words aloud and opted running a hand through his curls instead.

Freddie looked at him with concerned eyes. “Has he…. Has he tried to….?”

The other man didn’t need clarification as to what Freddie was referring to, because he knew exactly. He sighed heavily and nodded. “Yes, he has… once. They… they had to pump his stomach because he took a bunch of pills.”

The singer’s face fell, his eyes filling with sadness. He was quiet for a while before he came up with a solution. “So we watch him then, Brian.”

“What do you suggest we do? Lock up the medicine cabinet? Watch him in the loo?”

Freddie shrugged, looking helpless. “I simply don’t know, Brian. Ideally we could do both, but should we? I don’t know. What did you do right after he… did that?”

Brian sighed again. “I took out the pills out of the medicine cabinet and hid them, and I made him tell me when he needed a painkiller so I could watch him take them.”

Freddie put his hand up. “Then maybe… that’s what we need to do now?”

“You don’t think it’s an overreaction?”

The singer looked confident now for the first time this morning. He took a sip of his coffee. “If he overdosed once before, then I believe it’s only right to do it. We shouldn’t take the risk, right, dear?”

The guitarist nodded but chewed on his lips in contemplation. “Right.”

The two men spoke about other topics for a few minutes until Roger came out, his hair still damp. He sat down at the table, avoiding everyone’s looks. Brian put a plate of eggs and coffee in front of him.

“Come on, Rog. Breakfast time.”

The drummer groaned and looked at the plate. “I’m not hungry. Freddie, do you want it?” He asked, trying to pawn off his food on the singer.

Freddie shook his head, smiling warmly. “Kind of you to ask, but those are _your_ eggs, darling. You should get something in your stomach before your exam.”

“Not hungry,” he said again.

Brian sat down beside him now and watched him. “I didn’t poison them, I promise,” he tried joking.

Roger didn’t even crack half a smile. He knew that Brian was trying to cheer him up but he felt like his mind was in such a bad place that he couldn’t come back from it. He pushed the plate forward.

“Do you want something else to eat, Rog?”

The drummer looked at Brian. “What part of ‘not hungry’ don’t you understand, Bri? Christ, stop forcing food on me!” He cleared the plate off the table now and stood up angrily.

Brian took a deep breath, trying to keep his own anger in check. A part of him wanted Roger out of the flat but the better part of him reminded him that Roger shouldn’t be alone right now.

Freddie? Will you… please?” He pointed to the mess on the floor.

“Of course, Brian. No worries. I’ll take care of it…” He stood up and grabbed paper towels before he began to clean everything up.

Brian moved Roger away from the broken plate and looked at him. “Grab your bag, Rog. We’re leaving for your class now.”

The drummer walked over to his bag and grabbed it before he stormed out of the flat, heading for Brian’s van.

It was a cold, silent ride the whole way there. When they arrived at the college, Brian turned the van off and turned to Roger. He searched his face, the empty look in Roger’s eyes shaking him up enough to sit sideways on the seat so he could hug the drummer close to him. He held him for what felt like hours but in reality was probably only a couple minutes.

He felt Roger hug him back, his head in the other man’s chest until he was the first one to pull back, looking at Brian with questioning eyes but he didn’t say anything.

“You got this, Rog. When you feel yourself panicking, take deep breaths. When you’re done, you’re done. Come back out and we can go back home, yeah?”

Brian’s words relaxed Roger slightly and he nodded, his anger temporarily gone now. He looked like he wanted to say something to Brian, perhaps an apology for earlier, but then closed his mouth again and headed for his class.

Brian let out a breath, making sure Roger actually went inside the college before he relaxed slightly. He was anxious as he waited for his friend, turning on the radio to avoid absolute silence. The guitarist didn’t mind waiting for Roger if it meant that the man would take his exam; he would feel more frustrated if they had studied for nothing and Roger had decided he was going to stay home.

He felt uneasy. He didn’t want this to be a déjà vu scenario with Roger but he could feel an unsettling sensation inside of him. The apathetic behavior of Roger this morning, not eating, anger, not talking… these were all too familiar symptoms of depression, and he knew what might come soon. He swallowed hard, not wanting it to be true, not wanting Roger to have to go through all of this, and hated that his friend was.

He would feel worse were it not for the other two men as well being around, save for John, of course.

_John._

That was another worry. He knew that his presence might only make Roger feel worse, but the drummer needed to get used to the bassist being around them again. It was helpful to have another person in the house, and a part of him hoped maybe John would ask to move in with them.

He had so much to figure out but he mentally told himself that his first priority was Roger. He waited until forty minutes until he started to worry but then saw the blonde walking back towards the van with his bag slung over his shoulder.

He waited until Roger got into the van, watching him light a cigarette before he talked. “How did it go?”

Roger shrugged, taking a drag before slowly exhaling. “It doesn’t matter, Bri.”

“Of course it matters,” Brian insisted, turning the van on and started to drive back home. He glanced over at him occasionally. “I’m sure you did fine.”

Roger shrugged again, unable to help the feelings of apathy from spreading throughout him. He wasn’t actively planning his suicide or anything but he also wasn’t feeling any hope for the future. He was quiet the rest of the drive home and as soon as they arrived home, Roger made a beeline for his room before closing the door.

Brian sighed heavily as he walked inside and saw Freddie coming towards him.

“I emptied out the medicine cabinet in the bathroom of everything that wasn’t antiseptic or bandages, so now Roger must come to one of us if he needs any painkillers,” Freddie declared a bit proudly.

Brian relaxed a little bit and gave him a soft smile. “Good job, Fred. Thank you for doing that. Where are they, so I know?”

“In my room, on the left hand side of the bedside table.”

“All right,” Brian nodded, patting Freddie on the back grateful. “Do you think you can keep an eye on him now? I have to go to my class. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Freddie nodded. “Yes, go. We’ll be just fine here, dear. I promise I’ll check on him. Anyway, John should be here soon as well.”

“Good. All right,” Brian ran his hands through his hair and looked around to get his bearings again. “Going now. See you later.”

“Later, Brian… and don’t you worry!”

Of course the guitarist was going to worry, especially about Roger. It was what he was best at. He could make a career out of worrying about Roger. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t love the younger man; hell, he was the one who forced him to throw up the pills before driving him to the hospital. He’d jump in front of a million cars to protect the drummer. He wasn’t sure how to protect Roger from himself, however. That was a much more difficult task.

 

**……. .. ……. … ………. … ……….**

About an hour and a half later, there was a knock on their door. Freddie opened it to see John and smiled wide.

“John, dear! Please, come in. It’s so lovely to see you again!”

John smiled back at him as he walked inside, taken back when the singer pulled him into an embrace before he let him go again. The bassist chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, it’s great seeing you too, Freddie. Brian and Roger here too?”

Freddie’s smile faded a bit. “Brian’s at class, but Roger is in his room and appears to be sleeping. Would you like a cup of tea, John?”

The other man followed Freddie into the kitchen. “Yes, please. Thanks. So… is Roger feeling all right?”

The singer bit his lip, unsure what Brian wanted him to tell John, a white lie or the truth. He was quiet as he put the kettle on and plopped two teabags into mugs. He turned back to face John.

“Well… he’s been feeling a little under the weather, you see. He’s had a difficult week, I believe. It just… sometimes takes a lot out of him,” Freddie explained carefully.

John looked at him with interest. He looked like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with Roger, but didn’t want to push the topic either. He shivered, realizing how cold it was in the flat.

“Thermostat broken again?”

Freddie chuckled now. “Yes! Oh, I meant to tell you about that! I’ve gotten so used to the cold now that it completely slipped my mind. I’m afraid that it _is_ broken again, though, so… once you have your tea, if you could…?”

John chuckled now. “Of course I’ll fix it again.”

Freddie smiled again and then fixed their tea before setting John’s mug down in front of him. “Thank you so much.”

John took the tea and grabbed the tools before he walked over to where the thermostat was on the wall, unscrewing it so he could check it out again. “It’s no problem at all.”

Freddie took his tea and held it as he stood by John, watching him work. “So are you nervous about your first practice with us tonight?”

The other man thought for a moment before he smirked. “A little, I suppose. I’ve looked over your several songs but haven’t gotten the chance to learn to play quite yet. I’ll probably sound absolutely horrible.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. I’m sure you’ll sound great, and even if you don’t, it’s quite all right. No one here will kick you out of the band. Except maybe Roger. He has quite the temper, as you’ve seen. Oh! Speaking of temper… you should’ve seen him at the store yesterday. He fought for my honor, I’m proud to say.”

John looked over with a worried smile. “Oh yeah? How bad was it?”

“Let’s just say that some packages of bread were luckily the only casualties in the confrontation,” Freddie smirked slyly.

John laughed too himself. “Well that’s good, at least. So… does that happen a lot? Roger fighting for your honor?”

“It happens more than you might think, unfortunately. Anyway, we’re trying to tame him now,” Freddie teased and then let John work.

The bassist was still working on the thermostat when Brian walked through the door about a half hour later, dropping his bag.

Brian glanced over at John before looking over at Freddie. “Good evening. All right, John?”

John looked over at him before he gave a polite wave. “Yeah, good. You?”

“Not bad,” Brian gave him a weak smile before turning to Freddie. “How’s he doing?”

“I expect he’s okay. He’s been sleeping for a while now. I tried to offer him something to eat about forty minutes ago but he told me to piss off and went back to sleep.”

Brian rubbed his temples before he nodded and gave John a grateful pat on his back as he passed him to Roger’s room, quietly opening the door before he closed it again.

It was so dark in the room as he fumbled for a light switch, finally finding one a few minutes later. He lay down next to Roger, getting under the covers with him now before he wrapped his arms around the shorter man.

At first, Roger didn’t respond back but then Brian felt a small squeeze as he finally did hug him again, burying his face in the guitarist’s chest. He held him close, afraid he might lose him any second. They lay in silence for about ten minutes until Brian spoke up.

“Talk to me, Rog,” he whispered pleadingly. “Tell me what’s going on, please…”

Roger sighed against him before he moved onto his back. “I… don’t want to. I don’t have the energy, Bri. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to be left alone.”

“You do remember why I’m hesitant to do that, don’t you, Roger?” He asked gently.

Roger took a deep breath and nodded before releasing it. “Yeah. I know.”

Brian ran his fingers through the blonde’s hair absentmindedly, afraid that if Roger were to try something again, and succeed, then he might not get to do this anymore with the drummer. He forced those thoughts away.

“Tell me how to help you, Rog,” Brian begged almost inaudibly.

Roger felt guilt eating away at him. His friend was torn apart because all he did was worry about him.

_This is your own fault. He’d be better off without you, they all would._

The drummer took a deep breath before letting it out, feeling panic edging in his chest. Between that and the depression, he felt like he was drowning.  “I’m sorry, Bri. I-I don’t know how you could help.”

It wasn’t the answer that the guitarist wanted to hear, but he understood. Roger only knew the things he _thought_ would help himself, even if they only made him feel worse or just numb. He couldn’t hold it against him, and he didn’t.

“I know that drumming is somewhat therapeutic for you, Rog,” Brian whispered. “Maybe a bit of practice would help make you feel better?”

Roger slowly nodded against his friend’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it would help actually, but he didn’t want to let the others down by deciding not to practice. At least after practice he could be alone again. He let Brian help him out of bed and straightened himself out a little before he ran a hand through his hair and walked out to where the men were just finishing setting up the equipment.

Roger got behind his drum kit and tried to get in the mood to play by spinning his drumsticks around a few times, forcing himself to sit up straight.

John gave him a small smile, to which Roger forced one of his own, not wanting the bassist to think he was angry at him for being in the band or anything. Freddie went over to the mic and Brian went over to his guitar to tune it.

Freddie looked at them. “All right, so I figured we would start with ‘Keep Yourself Alive’ so John can get a sense of the rhythm and speed of the song and catch up. John, dear, don’t feel pressured to get it down the first play through. We’ll play it again straight after. All you Queens ready?”

They all nodded and Brian started his intro, the other men following his lead. John had a couple of hiccups but Roger barely noticed; he was just trying to concentrate on his own timing, his mind muddled with a sea of bad thoughts. The irony of the song didn’t go over Roger’s head either and Brian would never admit it but he knew that he was the reason why the guitarist wrote the song.

Once they had finished playing a few hours later, it was nearly 9pm and sweat glistened on nearly all of the bandmates’ skin.

Freddie claimed the shower first to cool down, leaving Roger, Brian and John to pack up the instruments. It was a quiet task, Brian occasionally instructing John how to take apart certain things and what cords to unplug.

Roger did his part with his drum kit before he snuck away towards his room. He was in the middle of changing his clothes when he heard a soft knock at his door.

It wasn’t Brian. He wouldn’t knock; he’d just invite himself in like some kind of reverse vampire. Roger quickly put his pajama bottoms on before finding a black tank top and pulled it down before he opened the door, surprised to see John standing in the doorframe looking a bit hesitant.

“Hey, Roger. Umm… I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to make sure that… we’re okay?”

_Guilt._

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat before he nodded. “Yeah, sure. We’re fine, Deaky. No worries. I just…” he searched the bassist’s face, feeling like he owed the man an explanation and he surely did. “I’m just a bit… off, you know? I’ve been feeling low lately. I feel this way sometimes but… it’s not your fault, and we’re all right, mate.”

It was probably the most words he’d said to anyone in the past few days but it did feel good to say them just to see John’s relief.  He didn’t want to say the word ‘depression’ simply because it was a word that was either overused or it was a word someone used to describe when they feel temporarily sad. He hated when others used it like that but he also didn’t like using it himself. The doctor at the hospital called Roger an attention-seeker and didn’t even use the word himself so Roger didn’t feel like he had the right to call himself ‘depressed.’

“Thanks, Roger. I’ve been worried that maybe I’ve done something wrong but thanks. I-I’ll… umm… I’ll leave you alone now. Goodnight.”

Roger gave him a weak smile before he nodded. “Night, John. I’ll see you in the morning.”

They were the same words Roger had told Brian That Night he overdosed but he really meant it tonight. He was liking John and the man had been nothing but amazing to him and the others. He closed the door and climbed into bed, hearing Brian and John faintly talking outside in the living room but couldn’t hear their conversation.

He rubbed his eyes and wrapped the comforter around his body before he closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep as exhaustion took over.


	7. Deaky knows best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the constant updates but I just cant help myself!

**.    .    .**

It was around two in the morning when Roger woke up, unable to get back to sleep again. He lay in bed for a couple hours, just staring off into space as the dark thoughts crept into his mind once again. He fought them off for the first hour but then it had just become a chore.

He forced himself out of bed and sat in the living room, chain smoking as he put the television on and watched mindless shows for the next few hours, never really paying attention to what was going on in the show. He was on his sixth cigarette around 6 a.m. when he heard movement.

He quickly put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table in case it was Brian getting up, but when he looked up, he saw John. The bassist looked genuinely surprised to see Roger awake but made the coffee first before he sat down beside the other man. John didn’t say anything to him for about ten minutes but stood up, poured coffee into two mugs before bringing them back over and handing one to Roger as he sat down again.

“Cheers,” Roger thanked him softly, surprised at the gesture. He took a sip but felt obligated to talk to him even though he couldn’t think of anything ‘normal’ to say. “So John, have you… have you written any songs or anything?”

The other man gave him a humorous smile and shrugged. “I’ve written some… lyrics, I guess, here and there but not so much chords. I think I’d rather just play them than write them. Have you?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, I have. Nothing special, though. Mostly just songs that make me sound good or I’ll… give myself solos,” he chuckled to himself, glancing at the bassist who smirked.

“Makes sense. I’d probably do the same if I wrote proper songs,” he shrugged, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Roger was surprised at how comfortable he felt being around John at the moment, but he couldn’t figure out why. He was uneasy around John a few days ago so what had changed? Maybe the talk last night?

He couldn’t explain it, but the drummer felt like he was easy to talk to and gave off such a laid back vibe that it was difficult to be uncomfortable around him. Roger had felt intimidated by Freddie’s exponential personality when they had first met and he moved in; it had taken a long time for him to trust the singer and want to be around him more and more. John was basically Freddie’s polar opposite, but in the best way.

“So how are you feeling?” John asked casually, his eyes focused on the television.

Roger glanced over at him before looking down, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying really hard not to feel anything, to be honest, John. Speaking of which, would you like to go out for drinks tonight?”

John gave him a worried look as he scratched his chin, looking like he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I appreciate the offer but… maybe it’s not a good idea, with you feeling so low, you know? It might just make you feel worse, alcohol being a depressant and all.”

Roger gave a weak chuckle before he lit another cigarette. “If I had known that another Brian was going to join the band, I might’ve taken back my yes vote.” He didn’t mean it, of course, but the harsh words just flowed out easier than the nicer ones this week.

From the look on John’s face, he didn’t look particularly happy about that comment but he cleared his throat. “I just want to help you, Roger. Just like Freddie and Brian do too.”

“I know,” the drummer nodded, not wanting conflict between the two of them. “Whatever… _this_ is that I have, though…” he trailed off, shaking his head at himself, the self-hatred leaking in again, “there’s no cure for it, John. I mean… it… temporarily goes away but… never permanently, and it comes and it goes, and… it comes again and goes again and… it’s just never-ending. You all can _try_ to help me and that works for a little while, maybe, but then everything just goes to shit all over again and I’m back at square one.”

John looked down at his hands, nodding in understanding. “I know, Roger. I know… what you’re going through. I mean… I don’t mean to be _that_ person that sounds desperate to understand about it but… I get it. I go through all of that as well.”

Roger looked up and over to the bassist with hesitation in his eyes, his chest on fire now. He’d never met anyone else who had said this to him before until now. He swallowed hard. “You get… really sad too? I mean… rock bottom… you’re questioning why you’re even alive still?”

He knew he was sounding challengingly and perhaps even a bit cold now, but he needed validation, and if those weren’t what John felt, then it would just feel all that much more badly when he told him. He looked at John carefully.

John was still looking down at his hands anxiously before he nodded surely, forcing himself to look back up at Roger. “Yes, unfortunately… I do feel like all those things and more. Like… sometimes it’d be better off if you weren’t… alive anymore?”

Roger felt electricity shoot throughout his body now. _Fucking finally, someone understands._ He took a shaky breath, not having expected this at all but felt an incomprehensible relief that someone else felt the way he did too, that he wasn’t alone in this misery and cage of suffering anymore.

“Y-Yeah, exactly. What… err… what causes it? I mean… why do we feel this way?” Roger asked quietly as he heard movement coming from the bathroom now.

John shook his head and shrugged, his eyes looking apologetic. “I-I… don’t know exactly, Roger. I wish I did. The extent of my classes haven’t included psychology or biology, sad to say.”

Roger nodded but the bassist could still see the disappointment spread on his face as the blonde searched for answers. “Right, sorry. I just… hoped, I guess.”

“Have you tried to talk about it with Brian?”

Roger sighed and took another drag off his cigarette before exhaling. He glanced over to the hallway, hearing soft voices now. He looked back over at John.

“We’ve… talked about my… depression or whatever it is, and… he’s pretty forgiving about it when it starts and lingers but I know he gets frustrated about it as well. How I get when the sadness comes back again, and… he’s seen me at my worst, so… I don’t know. I don’t like talking about it with him.”

“But you don’t mind talking about it with me?” John asked softly, searching Roger’s face.

“Yeah, but you understand, yeah? You get where I’m coming from. Anyway… it seems… easier to talk to you about this, I guess.”

Roger didn’t understand it completely but it was the truth, probably even the most truth he’d spoken to anyone in days. He hated feeling this vulnerable in front of Brian, especially after his overdose. It had taken a long time to talk to, or even just look Brian in the eye again after that night.

He felt embarrassed that he hadn’t succeeded, that he hadn’t taken enough pills to accomplish his mission, that he had been forced to throw up in front of doctors and nurses, and then told that he was just an attention seeker. That had been a difficult pill to swallow.

John gave him a gentle smile before he hesitantly patted the drummer’s shoulder, gently grabbing it reassuringly before letting it go again, and that was the end of the conversation. Roger felt his stomach do a flip at the foreign, but also somewhat intimate touch that was full of comfort. He put out his cigarette before he concentrated on his coffee.

He wanted to talk about this more with John, but he had questions for Brian now that he never had thought about asking before. Brian was the one he needed to talk to.

The guitarist came out, showered and fully dressed, going straight for the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. “Good morning, you two. How long have you guys been awake for?”

“Since about two,” Roger answered.

“About six,” came John’s answer.

Brian felt an ache in his chest when his brain focused on Roger’s answer, going back to That Time with Roger when he had been suicidal. Not long before he had overdosed, the drummer had been starting to sleep less and less.

“Feeling up to going to class again, Rog?” Brian asked, a gentleness in his voice that was phrased like a question but also gave no room for argument.

Roger sighed and shook his head before looking at him. “No, but I guess I’m going anyway. Fuck I can’t wait until I’m done with this semester.”

The guitarist popped pieces of bread into the toaster and pressed down on the knob, going over to Roger now.

“It’s not long now, Rog. After this semester you can get a degree and be done and do whatever you want, and we’ll support you. We just can’t rely on this rock star gig taking off.”

Roger shook his head in disagreement. “Wow, Brian. Way to have faith in us. We’re _good,_ or I know we will be. Uni is bullshit! I don’t need to keep going when we’re so close to making it.”

Brian put his hand up. “I’m not having this discussion with you again, Rog. You’re finishing up this semester, period. I’m making toast, you’re having some, end of discussion.” He gave no room for argument and placed the pieces of toast on three plates before he handed two of them to Roger and John, before sitting down himself and eating his own.

Roger gave John a look, who simply smirked to himself as he ate quietly. He looked over at Brian. “I have such a pounding headache right now… what about Freddie? You’re not forcing him to eat anything.”

“I’ll get you some painkillers when I finish, and Fred’s still sleeping. Anyway, he’s an adult and he can eat properly.”

“Oi, John’s an adult too!” Roger argued.

Brian chuckled and looked over at John, smiling politely. “I made his because I wanted to be nice. You should try it some it sometime, Rog; you’d be surprised how good it feels, being nice.”

Roger knew that his friend was teasing but he grumbled as he nibbled on his toast reluctantly. “I’m nice…”

Brian wouldn’t let Roger get ready unless the drummer ate at least one whole piece of the toast so by the time that he did, the drummer was at risk of being late for his class. He hurried to his room and threw something on to wear before fixing his hair and grabbing his backpack.

The two jumped into the van hurriedly and started towards the university. It was a quiet ride at first until Brian started a conversation.

“Things between you and John any better, or do you still feel uncomfortable around him?”

Roger shook his head. “Things feel good with him.”

The answer surprised him but he smiled to himself before looking over at his friend and clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Good. I’m really glad to hear that, Rog.”

The drummer gave him a small, sad smile before he simply gave a nod of acknowledgement. He rolled down the window a crack and pulled out a cigarette before placing it between his lips and lighting it, the silence growing between the two men again, along with the thick tension in the van. There was that feeling again, like Roger wanted to tell him something.

Brian was able to avoid the high traffic areas so they actually arrived a couple minutes early. He shut the van off and turned his body to him. “What is it, Rog? Talk to me. I can tell you want to.”

Roger swallowed hard before he took a few drags from the cigarette. “Bri, what’s causing my… my sadness…? My low times,” he tried to clarify, refusing to call it what it was to avoid being dramatic.

Brian felt his heart ache with sympathy for the drummer, searching the man’s face, drowning in Roger’s empty eyes. He glanced at the clock and sighed to himself. They didn’t have time to have this discussion because he knew it was going to be a long one.

He placed both his hands on Roger’s shoulders and gently thumbed them. “I want to have this conversation with you,” he said sincerely, looking in Roger’s eyes again. “I really do, mate, and I’m glad that you want to too, but this conversation requires more than five minutes.”

Roger nodded and bit his lip, wincing when he broke open the small scab that had been healing. “Fuck…”

Brian looked around and quickly grabbed a couple clean napkins before he dabbed at it and put slight pressure on it to help it stop bleeding. He looked at the blonde again. “We’ll talk about this at home after your class, okay? I promise we will.”

Roger nodded quietly. “All right. Will you be here when I come out?”

“Of course I will, Rog. Now go before you’re late!” He crumbled up the bloody napkin before he threw it away and watched as the man started towards his class.

He put the radio on and grabbed one of his books from his own backpack in the back. Brian studied for the duration of Roger’s class and greeted him when he hopped into the passenger seat again.

Roger rubbed his head before he leaned against the door, looking solemn. Something was obviously wrong and Brian was almost afraid to ask.

“What’s wrong?” The guitarist asked gently as they headed back towards the flat.

Roger shook his head and suddenly, Brian heard him sniffling. He glanced over carefully as he drove, wishing he was able to just pull over and embrace Roger tightly.

“Rog… please, talk to me. Tell me what happened. Whatever it is, I can help you.”

Brian had seen him cry privately a lot, but it never failed to make his heart ache for the man.

Roger pulled out a crumpled test pack and slammed it on the dashboard. “I failed it, Bri! I fucking failed the bloody exam! I choked the day of the exam because I couldn’t concentrate because of I was fucking sad as hell that day and I couldn’t even focus on the questions! I-I failed…”

Brian glanced over at the packet quickly, rotating his gaze from the packet, to the road, and then back at the packet again so he didn’t accidentally crash them. His stomach sank when he saw a big red F at the top. He pulled in and shut the van off before he grabbed the packet to look at it more closely, listening to the soft sobs from Roger as he rubbed his eyes roughly.

He knew it wasn’t just the exam that was the reason why he was crying. He knew it was his depression and anxiety first and foremost. If he wasn’t feeling like this, he’d just be angry and he wouldn’t even be crying right now.

“You just mixed some of them up… otherwise, they would’ve been right. Shit, she took points off for spelling it wrong?” He sighed, shaking his head. “Roger, look at me, mate.”

Roger wiped his reddened face quickly before looking up at Brian.

“You were really close on this exam and this exam doesn’t even matter. You know why?” Roger shook his head. “Because you _tried._ You made the effort to show up, even though you were feeling like shit, and you took it anyway. You made the effort to study, and her grading criteria is insane. Anyway, you don’t want to become a dentist anyway, right?”

Roger was surprised to hear it come out of Brian’s mouth but he shook his head, clearing his throat.

“Right then, give me your lighter, please.” Roger looked at him in confusion before he reached into his pants and pulled out his lighter, handing it to his friend. Brian took it from him and then held the packet up before he lit the papers on fire, watching it burn.

Roger’s eyes lit up and he chuckled weakly.

Brian now threw the fully engulfed packet on the floor before he quickly stomped it out with his foot. He laughed to himself and then looked up at Roger, his heart filling with joy seeing the utter surprise on his face. He took his shoulders again before he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Roger’s gently.

“Failing that exam is not the end of the world,” Brian spoke softly, but confidently. “There is more to the world than one failed exam. Even five failed exams. None of it defines who you are, Rog. You are not a failure.”

He searched Roger’s eyes but he could tell the drummer was not entirely convinced. He now took him in for a tight hug, feeling the other man’s arms wrap around him as well.

“You are more than the classes you have or the tests you take,” Brian continued. “This professor is an unbelievable bitch, and isn’t fit to be called a professor. Just take the other exams and get through this horrible semester, and then you can do what you want to do.”

Roger nodded against Brian’s chest and sniffed again, wiping at his face to try to collect himself. He took a shaky breath and looked down at his hands. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Of course, mate. Anytime. Now, come on. Let’s go see what the others are up to and then we can have our conversation.”

Roger looked surprised. “Y-You still want to have it?”

“Of course I do, Rog. I told you I did and I meant it. Come on.” He got out of the van, leading them into the flat and looked around only to see John and Freddie talking.

The two men looked up when Roger and Brian walked inside.

“ _Finally!_ Please do tell this young man that we should go for drinks tonight,” Freddie pleaded, sashaying towards Brian.

Roger looked hopefully at Brian now, just wanting to drown himself in drink after the week he’s had. The guitarist looked hesitant.

“I’m afraid I’m on John’s side in this debate, Fred. Not tonight, but… maybe tomorrow night.

Freddie groaned dramatically before he looked at John with disapproving eyes. “I’m afraid you won’t make it far in this band if you don’t like to party.”

“Oh yeah? Who will fix the thermostat then if he leaves?”

Freddie smirked now and shrugged. “Well, I suppose you can stay in the band after all, but you should really get in the swing of things.”

John chuckled softly. “Oh, okay, Freddie.”

Brian laughed before he looked at the two men. “How about you two go get us some Chinese for lunch?”

Freddie’s face lit up and he gently pulled John towards the door. “Come on, darling! Brian hardly ever allows us to get Chinese! This moment might not ever happen again!” John laughed and followed Freddie out the door, Brian dumping the van keys into Freddie’s hand on the way out.

Brian knew it would take them at least an hour between going there, ordering, waiting, and then coming back home again.

“That should keep them occupied. So, where do you want to talk?”

Roger shrugged but then looked over at the astrophysicist. “B-Bedroom?”

“Sure thing.” He made them up two cups of tea before leading Roger to his own bedroom, figuring the man would be more comfortable in his own room. “Let’s talk.”

The drummer looked down at his hands for a long time, unsure if he actually wanted to do this, but knew he had to. He needed answers. He took a deep breath, feeling like an idiot for the questions he wanted to ask, just knowing they had to be too obvious. Roger felt dumb for not knowing the answers to these questions.

Brian waited patiently, sipping his tea as he looked at the other man with calm eyes. “You wanted to know what causes your depression?”

Roger cringed at the word and shook his head. “Bri, don’t… don’t call it that.”

This surprised Brian. “Why not? It’s what it is, Rog. You have depression. You already know this… right?”

Roger swallowed hard, fighting the urge to light up again. He glanced out the window as it started to rain. He looked back at the guitarist. “I’m… sad. That’s all it is.”

The statement worried Brian, searching his friend’s eyes. He shook his head. “No, this isn’t because you’re… sad. You’ve tried to kill yourself, Roger,” he spoke gently. “You barely eat, you barely sleep, you get angry… these are textbook symptoms of depression. You. Have. Depression.”

Roger shook his head still in disbelief, feeling disgusted by the word simply because he didn’t want to be that dramatic about it.

“I don’t have… _depression_ , Brian. Really… I just… am stressed out sometimes, and… have anger issues. It’s just my anxiety.”

Brian didn’t believe that Roger’s mind could be changed so he moved on for now. “Roger, you’ve taken a 100 level Psych course, right?” The drummer nodded. “So… you know what causes depression then.”

Roger rubbed his eyes. This was harder than he thought it would be.  “I had a choice not to take it yet. I was going to take it next semester.”

The other man nodded now and sipped his tea before he spoke again. “A lot of things can cause depression… but physiologically speaking, it’s caused by a chemical abnormality in the brain… mostly of serotonin. Not enough serotonin balancing out correctly and you have depression.”

Roger took this in but it didn’t make the mental illness any easier to talk about. It figures it involves something of his screwing up. One more thing that he couldn’t do right. He rubbed his head again, having forgotten about his headache until just now.

Brian looked at him with concern. “Headache?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had it since this morning. _Fuck_ it hurts.”

“Stay here, I’ll get you something for it.”

Roger watched as Brian stood up and left the room. He waited a beat before he followed him out of the room, watching as he went into Freddie’s bedroom. Realization touched his eyes now.

_He had the pills moved so he could control it, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Roger overdosing again._

_This was his fault._ He had pushed Brian to do this. What else did he put the guitarist through? He swallowed hard at the thought and went back into the room before he sat on the bed, waiting for his friend.

He had other questions about the _depression_ but he didn’t want to ask them anymore. It didn’t matter really, anyway. It was a few minutes before Brian came back with two painkillers.

“Here you are.”

Roger took them from him and drank his tea with the pills. “Cheers.”

Brian sat down on the bed again before he looked at him. “Okay, back to our conversation. Did you have any other questions?”

The drummer shook his head. “No, don’t think so.”

Brian examined his face but only came up with emptiness. He moved closer and gently caressed Roger’s back in circles, feeling the other man relax a little. “Will you at least tell me when you’re feeling suicidal this time? So I don’t come home to find out something happened to you? You mean a lot to me, Roger, and I’d ever be able to forgive myself if I wasn’t here for you when you needed me the most.”

Roger looked up at him but nodded, unsure if he actually would or not but just wanted this uncomfortable conversation to end. They sat on the bed until Freddie and John walked through the door announcing the food was here.

“Go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

“Rog…” Brian warned. “Please… at least try to eat something?”

The drummer shook his head before he got under his covers. “No. I don’t feel like it. Whatever this is, I want it to go away! I want you to go away. Just leave me alone right now. All I want to do is sleep.”

The other man sighed, starting to lose his patience. “You need to eat or you’re going to waste away!”

“Good, then I won’t be a bother to anyone anymore.”

Brian’s temper faded away but it was replaced by fear. He ran his hand through Roger’s hair before he watched him bury himself deep into the blankets. He didn’t know what else he could do for him. He just wanted to help him but he didn’t know how to. This was uncharted territory for him. He couldn’t relate to him; all he knew was the science behind it, but that was all.

Then there was a soft knock at the door. When Brian looked up, he saw John with his plate of food and two forks.

“Umm… I’m sorry to interrupt but… I was just wondering if maybe I could talk to Roger?”

Brian gave him a soft smile. “That’s nice of you, Deaky, but he’s not feeling well right now.”

“I know,” John nodded, politely smiling back. “Could I, though? Please?”

Brian nodded and stood up before he gave a grateful look to the bassist before he left the room. John closed the door behind him and walked over before he sat on the bed.

“He means well,” John spoke softly. “He just doesn’t know how to help you, and it scares him.”

Roger slowly peeked over the comforter and watched as John started to eat his lunch. “I-I know. It’s just frustrating that he keeps trying to help. I only want him to leave me alone and stop worrying about me.”

“He’s your friend. Of course he’s never going to stop trying to help you, Roger. After your first attempt, he’s probably afraid of losing you. Can’t blame him for that.”

Roger pushed himself to sit up. “Watch me,” he sighed. He looked over at John. “I love the man but I swear it’s like living with my mum.”

John smirked, eating another forkful of food. “Was she always worrying about you?”

Roger chuckled weakly. “Constantly. She didn’t believe what I had was… depression, or whatever, but she knew something was wrong. She thought I was just always sick.”

John nodded. “Yep, I can relate to that. Depression is a tricky thing. Not many people believe you have it when you got it, or don’t want to believe that it exists or think you use it as an excuse to act a certain way. I’m sorry you’ve got to go through all that, Rog. Really, I am. It’s not a fun thing.”

“No, it’s not,” the blonde agreed. “How do you deal with it?”

“I’m on antidepressants,” John confessed a bit sheepishly. “If I take them, I’m okay for the most part. I can function like a ‘normal’ person and I feel all right. I was able to get on them when I got help for it in uni.”

Roger looked at him curiously. “Really? It helps you…? I mean, you don’t feel sad or anything anymore?”

John shook his head. “As long as I keep taking them every day. Even when I miss a day, though, it affects me, and then it takes a couple days for it to kick back in again to get on track. Maybe… they would help you too?”

Roger thought about this but wasn’t so sure. He shrugged. “You can play all right on them, Deaky? I mean, it doesn’t affect that?”

“It did affect it at first, but once my body got used to them, I can play just fine now.” John ate another mouthful of food.

Roger didn’t like the idea of not being able to play like he usually does, but he had to figure out which was the lesser evil. Was it better to mess up during a gig, or try to kill himself again? The answer should be obvious to him, he knew, but messing up during a gig could cost the whole band. He didn’t want to risk that.

Watching John eat suddenly made him feel like he was starving. He sighed and looked at his food. “Can I try some, Deaky?”

John chuckled and pushed his plate towards him along with the extra fork. “Yeah, sure. Go for it, mate.”

“Cheers,” Roger took a small forkful and ate it, instantly coughing as tears touched his eyes as he laughed. “W-What is this….?!”

John laughed now. “It’s spicy chicken and rice. I like it extra hot.”

Roger fanned his mouth now but was chuckling. “O-Oh my g-god… John, you’re trying to kill me!”

The bassist smirked but shook his head. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

He took a long drink of his now lukewarm tea to put the inferno out in his mouth. He pushed the plate back towards John.

The younger man separated a few pieces of chicken now and put them near Roger on the plate. “Here, these aren’t as hot as the others.”

Roger reluctantly ate the chicken timidly, relieved that it wasn’t as spicy as the first forkful had been. He gave John a small smile. “Thanks, Deaky… for coming in here and talking like this. It’s nice to get some perspective sometimes.”

The younger man shrugged and gave him a smile back. “No worries. I’m always here for you.”

Roger couldn’t lie and say that he was suddenly no longer depressed, because he still was, but talking and being around John Deacon just seemed to make his life a little bit more manageable somehow.

 

 

 


	8. cliches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments, guys! Keep them coming, please!

**.    .     .**

Roger woke up the next day with a dismal excitement inside himself this morning: they’d be able to go out for drinks later, and _oh how he planned to drink._ He could smoke until tar stained his fingers and his lungs came out but it could only do so much. At least with the alcohol, he could numb himself successfully.

After their lunch yesterday, the four friends had spent the majority of the day playing Scrabble until Brian had gone to his class, and then continued some more once he got back home again. Freddie won with the help of some lucky high-scoring words but Roger had come in second with some textbook words he had memorized. It had been around ten when they all decided to go to bed and since John wanted to stick around, Brian had stuck him in Roger’s room, perhaps afraid to leave the drummer alone at night.

Roger hadn’t minded all that much, however. They were both under the covers because of how chilly it was, even with the fixed thermostat, but the blonde felt comfortable having another body in the bed with him, even if it wasn’t Brian.

He had gotten to know John more than he thought he would in his whole life over just the course of a few days, grateful to have another person in the flat that actually understood how he felt, how his… depression took over his mind and body, threatening to leave him an empty shell.

He looked over to see John still sleeping and decided to let him as he quietly crept out to the kitchen and started the coffee. It wasn’t long until he heard heavy footsteps on the floor and knew Brian was awake, being validated when he saw the tall man enter the kitchen and look at him.

“Just started the coffee?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah.”

“I know you’re sick of me asking, but are you hungry? I can make you some toast again, something small before class?”

Roger shook his head. “Not hungry,” he said quietly.

Brian looked at him disapprovingly as he sighed and leaned against the opposite cabinets to look at him. “I’m concerned, Rog. You’ve barely eaten anything this whole week. I don’t know how you’re still standing. I’ve noticed how you’ve lost weight too. It’s important to eat, mate.”

Roger knew that Brian was coming from a good place but he was frustrated with him. He rolled his eyes. “Just leave it alone, Bri. I ate some of John’s lunch yesterday. I _am_ eating. Just… stop with the nagging, yeah?”

“You ate, did you?” he looked at him skeptically. “So if I ask Deaky about it, he’ll say the same?”

Roger clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. “Yeah, he will! _Christ, Brian._ ” He had only hit Brian once before and that was when the guitarist had called his past song weak and nonsensical. He didn’t want to hit him again, but he was so tired of the nagging and pressure and questions that he was at his wit’s end.

The guitarist watched him cautiously and shook his head. “Take a breath, Rog. Have a seat, all right?”

He didn’t want to, but there was something gentle about the tone of his voice now that made him obey his suggestions. He _did_ take a breath and he _did_ sit down, and he had to admit he felt a little better now. No matter how mad Brian made him, he still found himself doing what Brian told him to do; he knew that the guitarist always had his best interest at heart.

A few minutes later, he came over with a plate of jam on toast and a cup of coffee and handed both to the blonde before he went back into the kitchen.

“John still sleeping?”

Roger nibbled at his toast and sipped his coffee before he lit a cigarette, annoyingly taking his time to answer. “Yeah, he was still asleep when I woke up and came out here earlier. Are you going to ask him to move in?”

Brian finished preparing his toast and grabbed his own coffee before sitting down beside Roger on the couch. “I was thinking about it, yeah. What do you think about it, John being here all the time?”

The drummer nodded now. “Yeah, it sounds good. I… I’d like that, I think.”

The answer surprised the other man and he looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really, yes,” he nodded in verification. “I like him. He’s a good bloke.”

Brian had never seen his friend take to someone as fast as he did John. A part of him felt suspicious though. He wanted to believe that Deaky was a good man but if Roger liked him so quickly, then what could be his downfall? There had to be a catch. He didn’t want John to enable Roger or be a bad influence on him that might make him worse.

“He hasn’t said a lot to me about himself. Has he told you anything about his home life or anything else?” Brian prodded.

Roger looked at him and thought for a beat, taking a drag from the cigarette before exhaling. “Not too much. Just that he’s been playing bass for a while now. He’s nice, though. I like him. He’s easy to talk to.”

“Does he smoke or anything?”

The question was so odd to Roger that he became suspicious and caught onto what Brian was doing. He looked at him. “No, _D_ ad. He doesn’t! Really, Bri? You think that I like him because he has the same bad habits like me?”

Brian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, Roger. I just… don’t want him to make you worse and you’ve never befriended someone so fast! What am I supposed to think?”

The drummer sighed and shook his head, putting his cigarette out before turning to his coffee and drank some. “Well no need to worry about him.  He’s a good person, unlike me. You’d probably like him more than me soon.”

Brian scoffed. “Stop it, Rog. You’re being ridiculous.”

“No,” Roger said firmly. “What’s ridiculous is that you’re afraid of ‘bad’ people encouraging me to do ‘bad’ things! I _can_ think for myself, you know.”

“I know that but you and I both know that you don’t exactly always make the best decisions. I have the right to worry after your accident.”

 _Accident._ The word sent shivers throughout Roger and he let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, it wasn’t an accident, Brian. I knew what I was trying to do. I didn’t just take a painkiller, forget that I did, and take twenty more straight away! Just call it what it was…”

“Fine, then! An attempt, and I _know_ what it was but I hate calling it an attempted suicide because it scares me to death, Rog,” Brian slammed his hands on the wall. “I want to believe that it was an accident because surely you can’t want to die that badly! At least, I would hope not.”

“You don’t understand, Bri… just… stop talking about it while you’re ahead.” Roger shook his head.

That ended the conversation because Brian just walked out of the kitchen and into Freddie’s room, slamming the door regardless of whether or not if the singer was still sleeping. Roger swallowed hard and looked down at his hands, balling them into fists again.

_He made Brian angry again. The guitarist probably wished that he had succeeded so he wouldn’t have to put up with him anymore._

He sat alone on the couch for about half an hour, finishing his coffee when he heard softer footsteps come out and go to the kitchen. Roger looked over to see John getting his coffee and then watched as he sat down beside him.

“What’s wrong?” John asked him softly.

Roger sighed, leaning back to look at his hands, shrugging. “Just Brian. He doesn’t _get_ it, Deaky.”

The bassist looked concerned. “Get what, exactly?”

Roger gave him a knowing look and sighed. “You know, _why_ I did it. Why I wouldn’t want to be alive anymore.”

John felt his blood go cold at the thought of Roger no longer being around. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat but nodded, listening to him intently. “There isn’t always a cut and dry reason. Sometimes it’s just because you want your pain to just end, all the sadness, the physical pain of depression… it can be a lot of things. It’s difficult to explain to others about it, though.”

The drummer nodded in agreement. “Exactly, at least you get it.”

John bit his lip now, unable to stop the sinking feeling he was feeling, the feeling of dread. “You still feel like you want to die, Roger?” He asked gently.

The other man was quiet for a long time before he nodded and then forced himself to look at John who had sympathy in his eyes.

John searched his face. “Do you mind if I drive you to your class today?”

The abrupt change of subject took Roger back. “Umm… I’m not going to class today. I’m taking a mental health day.”

“Okay, then… do you mind if we grab some coffee or something? On me.”

Roger was surprised an invitation but he nodded. “Y-Yeah, sure. I guess.” He didn’t want to stay home with Brian acting the way he was; it’d just make Roger feel even more worthless. It was better to be around someone who could at least relate to him.

“Good, thank you. I’m going to go get ready, then.” He stood up and headed towards the bathroom to shower.

Roger grabbed his plate and took it to the kitchen, throwing out the barely eaten pieces of toast. He walked to his bedroom, seeing Brian sitting on his bed.

“I-I’m going out for coffee with John.”

Brian nodded, not bothering to ask why. He knew why, and it hurt but he knew he deserved the coldness. “Rog, I’m sorry about how I talked to you earlier. I’m just –"

“Worried about me,” the blonde finished for him. “Yeah, I’m well aware.”

The older man kept his anger in check this time. He walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Roger, holding him close. Roger felt tears rise in his eyes but he didn’t hug him back. When Brian didn’t feel him hug back, he let him go reluctantly, looking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Roger ran a hand through his hair before he started getting changed into proper clothes. “I’m tired of playing this game with you, Bri. That’s all.”

Brian shook his head, shrugging in confusion. “What game?”

Roger looked at him, hating that his tears were ones of anger this time and he couldn’t control the crying. “The one where you nag me about being depressed or not eating, we have a row, and then you try to make everything all right again between us by hugging me. I’m done with it. It’s fucking exhausting.”

Brian looked as if Roger had slapped him across the face hard. “What, you think I _enjoy_ fighting and nagging you? I don’t! I just…” he threw his arms up in the air as he scoffed. “I don’t know what to do anymore! I don’t know how to bloody help you!”

“Well you won’t have to help me for much longer, Brian…” he suddenly spoke aloud, cursing himself when he realized it hadn’t been in his head.

“W-What…?” Brian’s face fell now. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Roger?”

Roger clenched his jaw, wiping away the tears from his face. “Nothing. Just forget it. I have to leave with John now.”

He was walking towards the door now when Brian reached out and grabbed his arm gently.

“No, you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you meant by it! We need to talk about this, Rog! I know it’s an uncomfortable topic with you but it really worries me when you say things like that!” It wasn’t anger laced in Brian’s voice, but genuine concern.

Roger swallowed hard, shaking his head as he ripped his arm away from his friend. “I’m done talking! I’m so _sick_ of talking with you! It doesn’t help anything! It doesn’t make things better and whoever said it does is full of it!”

Brian shook his head. “Talking does help, Roger… if… John’s able to help you more than I am, I’m fine with that. If you can talk to him and it makes you feel better, then keep talking to him, Rog. I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

Roger suddenly knocked over a table that was sitting in the corner, knocking off the cup of forgotten tea and shattering it. “Stop! Stop trying to keep me alive! I don’t _want_ to be alive anymore! I’m so fucking tired, Brian! I’m tired and I can’t keep fighting this and fighting you and… i-it’s just too much anymore…”

His voice was shaking uncontrollably now and more tears fell from his eyes before he roughly wiped them away. Brian looked like he wanted nothing more than to pull him into another hug but resisted. He was speechless now, and Roger took this opportunity to back out of the bedroom, putting on his jacket before he hurried outside to the van, seeing John already in the driver’s seat.

The bassist started driving in the direction of the nearest café, glancing over to see Roger lighting a cigarette with trembling hands but instantly dropping it as soon as he got it lit.

“Shit!” he quickly stamped it out as it landed on the floor of the van. He rubbed his face roughly and it wasn’t long before John suddenly heard gasping coming from him.

He looked from the road to Roger and knew he wasn’t going to make it to the café like this. John pulled over to the side of the road as quickly and safely as he could before he gently pulled Roger out of his seat and into the back where there was more space.

Roger had his eyes closed but was still crying, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe, his face paling quickly. John knelt down in front of Roger, wanting to close the gap a little between them. He put his hands on the drummer’s knees and looked up at him.

“You’re okay, Roger,” he said calmly. “You’re safe… but you need to get air into your lungs, yeah?” He saw Roger nod quickly and continued. “Good, just listen to me, okay? Listen to my voice. You don’t have to talk or anything. You can just nod or shake your head. Do you have breathing exercises you normally do when you have these attacks?”

Roger nodded again, pressing his palms into his legs. He was on the verge of collapsing on the floor of the van as his mind raced at a million miles an hour, starting to feel dizzy.

“Okay, you need to start doing them right now then or else you’re going to pass out. Try and open your eyes so you can look at me, okay?” Roger forced his eyes open. “Good. Okay, inhale…” he inhaled through his nose and watched as the other man did the same, “And exhale…” he exhaled through his mouth slowly.

Roger mimicked the exercise before he repeated it once again, the feeling of dizziness beginning to disappear.

John gave him an encouraging smile. “Good, see? Your color’s starting to come back again. Keep breathing, mate. You’re doing great.”

Roger nodded and did the exercise again and again, until his heartrate started to come back down and his lungs felt like they were getting more oxygen again. He wiped his face of tears after about ten more minutes, his breath hitching every once in a while as his body tried to catch up to him again. The drummer rubbed his arms and wiped the sweat from his forehead even though it was freezing outside.

“T-Thanks, Deaky…” he said weakly.

John absentmindedly thumbed Roger’s knees comfortingly. “Anytime. Are you feeling better?”

Roger nodded.

“I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “Do you feel like talking about it?”

Roger shook his head. “Not right now, John. I’m too tired now.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s fine. You have plenty of time to relax if you want until we get to the café. I’m going to run in and grab us some things and come back out so you can take a nap if you want?”

Roger nodded and took off his jacket before he lay on the floor and used it as a pillow. John got back into the driver seat and slowly drove them to the café. When they arrived some twenty minutes later, the bassist looked back and saw that the blonde was still napping.

He went inside the café by himself, ordered two coffees and two large muffins before he came back out to the parking lot and got back into the van, quietly closing the door. He took the things to where Roger was sleeping and gently shook him awake before he sat down beside him.

The drummer slowly started to wake up, rubbing his eyes when he saw everything John had bought for them. He sat up and took a shaky breath before he took his coffee.

“Cheers.”

John smiled and took a sip of his own coffee before he stood up quickly and turned the radio back on before sitting again, not a fan of silence, even if it was a comfortable one between friends. The silence made him uneasy and turned his anxiety all the way to 11.

“I’m s-sorry, Deaky,” Roger suddenly apologized.

“For what?”

“For… having that attack like that. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t mean to… put the pressure on you to help me through it or anything,” Roger searched the younger man’s eyes.

John gave him a small smile. “It was no problem, Rog. Really. I wasn’t pressured to help you. I really wanted to help. I don’t like seeing you in pain like this… I want to do anything I can to help, at any given moment.”

“You’ve only met me a few days ago, John. You can’t be that keen on wanting to help me after how you’ve seen me act,” Roger gave a weak chuckle.

“You think having depression would make me not want to be around you, or be your friend and help you out when you need it? I don’t believe that you know me all that well either, Roger.”

“Perhaps not.”

John pulled out a muffin and placed it near Roger before taking the other one out and started to eat it himself. He watched him, not wanting to press him with questions but also wouldn’t mind a few answers either. Regardless, he decided not to ask him anything.

“Do you mind if I say a few things, Roger?”

The drummer looked at him with tired eyes but shook his head. “No, please. Talk away.”

John wet his lips. “You said how you don’t want to be alive anymore, and I’m not going to preach to you how you need to stop thinking like that or… whatever, because I know it’s not that easy. I just want you to know that you’re not alone, okay? I don’t just mean because of Freddie or Brian but… I mean me too. I know we don’t know each other all that well yet but I think we know the important things at least and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me. You can… wake me up if you need to.”

Roger cracked a weak smile and nodded.

“What do you like, Roger?” John asked now.

He searched John’s eyes. “What do you mean? Like, in general?”

“Yes, I mean… what do you like in general? Small things and big things. Just… name off things you like or like doing or eating or whatever. Just anything. Don’t even think about it for a long time.”

The drummer chuckled now at the randomness of the question but thought about it for a second. “I like… music, and drumming, and… singing… and I like smoking. I like… Brian and Freddie, and you of course, Deaky. I like… drinking and listening to music and tea, and… women… and Christmastime and snow and… I don’t know.”

John smiled now as he listened to Roger rattle off everything before he spoke again. “Those ae a lot of nice things, Rog. You realize that… you wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of those things if you’re not alive anymore, though, right?”

Roger looked down at his hands now, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty about feeling suicidal or anything, Roger, and if I have, then… I apologize, but… enjoying the little things, as cliché as it sounds, is… one of the ways you can fight through your depression and suicidal thoughts. I’ve done it before and it’s silly and stupid but it works. I really believe that music helps keep people alive, and if that’s what you enjoy doing then you need to keep doing it. You like listening to music and smoking and tea and women? Then _keep enjoying them,”_ John instructed.

Roger looked at him. “What if… none of those things keep me here? I mean… those are all great things I enjoy but… what’s the point of it all? None of them make me a better person. None of them… stop me from being a burden on everyone around me, Deaky. I meant what I said earlier, you know? I meant that I’m tired of fighting this shit. I am and… I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore.”

It was John’s turn to feel the panic in his chest but he was somehow able to hold it in. He took a deep breath and looked at Roger. “Am I supposed to sit here and be okay with you ending your life, Roger? I can’t do that. I wouldn’t do it with anyone. You’re not a burden on anyone, by the way. We would let you know if you were, and… _I’m_ sorry but I can’t just say ‘oh okay, you’re going to off yourself? Good luck’ and walk away. You’re one of my best mates and I won’t just let you kill yourself, no matter how much pain you’re in.”

“Are you going to tell me how much you want to help me too?”

“No,” John shook his head. “You’ve heard it enough from Brian, I’m sure, but… I will say that I care about you a lot, and… I don’t care about a lot of people in such a short time. I consider you my brother, all of you, and… the world would be a lot worse off without you, and without your music and your voice.”

Roger was skeptical of this and scoffed softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

John chuckled. “I know it sounds cliché again, but it’s true, Rog. So… just accept it,” he smirked.

The drummer chuckled but now reached out and took a bite of muffin. The two men were now quiet as they ate and listened to the radio for about an hour but there seemed to be a little less tension now. Roger appeared to be more relaxed than he was earlier.

That was an extra hour John got to be with Roger, and he was going to embrace that.

Once they had finished eating and drinking their coffees, John wiped the crumbs off his pants. “Ready to head back?”

Roger nodded before he looked at him. “Will you come with me tonight for drinks?”

“What about Freddie and Brian?”

The drummer shrugged. “I just want it to be us tonight. I always go with those two and they always spoil my fun.”

“What makes you think I won’t?”

Roger smirked. “Because you let me skip my class and took me out for coffee. You didn’t nag me about not going and didn’t get frustrated when I had my panic attack. You’re not going to spoil my fun, John, and if you do, just a warning, I’ll leave you at the bar with an expensive tab.”

John laughed now and looked at him before he stood up and patted his shoulder, lingering there for a few minutes, and then got back into the driver’s seat again. Roger also got up and sat in the passenger seat, slouching down in it so he could take another nap.


	9. body language

**.    .    .**

After they arrived back home, Roger lay down on the couch to take another nap, still feeling tired regardless of the two naps he had taken earlier.

“Roger? Rog?” the drummer groaned as he felt someone gently shake him awake. “Darling, it’s seven. Deaky told us to wake you so you two can go get some drinks…”

Roger rolled onto his back and rubbed his face before he opened his eyes and saw Freddie looking kindly at him. He forced himself to sit up. “Right… thanks, Freddie. Where is Deaky now?”

“He’s in your room getting dressed, I believe,” Freddie searched the other man’s eyes, nervousness in his own. “Are you sure you want to go out tonight? You do realize you could stay here and drink?”

Roger stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “Yes, I do. I need to get out of the place before Bri and I end up murdering each other.”

Freddie sighed and shook his head. “This is quite a change. Usually _I’m_ the one looking to get out before I end up murdering _you._ ”

Roger smirked slightly before he gave the singer a playful shove as he walked to his room and knocked on it first before slowly opening it and slipping inside. He saw John finishing getting dressed. He nodded in greeting.

“Evening. Thanks for telling Fred to wake me up so we can go out.”

John gave him a small smile. “Of course. How’re you feeling, Roger?”

The blonde shrugged. “Eager to get out.” He started to change his clothes so they were more of ‘going out’ clothes instead of depression clothes. He brushed his hair before he cleared his throat. “Ready?”

John nodded and led the two of them out of the flat before Brian could come out and get into another row with Roger. He knew the drummer was already in low spirits and knew that fighting with Brian would only prove badly for Roger.

They arrived at a local bar that the he knew that Roger and Brian had played with their previous singer/bass player Tim. The two of them sauntered up to the bar and before he could say anything, Roger spoke for them.

“Two beers, please,” he told the bartender.

He handed John his beer and then led them over to a table before he sat down, setting his beer down before he took out his cigarettes and lit one. He took a drag from it before he blew the smoke considerately away from the bassist.

“Were you close to the other singer…Tim?” John asked over the music that was playing on the stereo overhead.

Roger let out a disgusted chuckle, rolling his eyes before he shook his head. “He was a fucking prick. He thought he was such hot shit and yeah, he had a decent voice but it wasn’t anywhere near as good as Freddie’s. Anyway, he was a wanker. I hated that guy.”

John smiled to himself, feeling slightly guilty that he had hoped for an answer like that. “What did Brian think about him?” He hated to bring up the guitarist right now but curiosity got the better of him.

Roger took another drag before taking a drink after he exhaled, shrugging. “I don’t think he was too keen on him either. I think he knew what a dickhead he was, but put up with him because we needed a singer.”

John nodded, taking casual sips from his beer but vowed it’d be his only one since he had to be Roger’s designated driver tonight. He looked on as Roger quickly finished his first beer and then went up to the bar to order two more.

When he came back, he took notice how quickly Roger was downing the alcohol. He leaned into him. “We have all night, Rog. How about taking it easy?”

Roger looked up at him. “I came here to drink, Deaky. Relax a little. Remember what we talked about earlier, about spoiling this night for me?” There was teasing in his eyes but John wouldn’t put it past Roger to abandon him at the bar with a pricy tab to pay.

He sighed and took another drink of his beer, slowly sipping it. This would prove to be an interesting night. He couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed. “I’m sorry, did you use me so you could get shitfaced and self-destructive?”

Roger took another drag off his cigarette. “S-Sorry, John. I just… need this tonight, yeah?”

“You don’t need to get shitfaced, Roger. Let’s just go back home.”

“No,” Roger said firmly, surprising John. “We’re here now so just… do what you need to do to accept that tonight is happening. I’ll let you know when I’m the right amount of numb, mate.” His voice was laced with anger that it caught the bassist off guard.

He thought he had gotten through to him earlier in the van, but obviously he hadn’t. He sighed, watching as Roger finished off his second pint, grabbed his third and then started to make his way through the crowd of people.

“Shit,” he swore to himself, regretting his decision to drive Roger now. Now that they were here, there was no way he’d be able to get Roger to go back home by himself.

Roger took a long drink of his third pint as he wandered over the stage to watch the band that was playing, determined to have a good time and forget about everything that was going on between him and Brian. He felt bad about being hurtful towards John but he needed this. He needed to just let go and do what he needed to do to get his frustrations out, even if that did mean self-destructing in the process.

He ordered drink after drink until he lost count after six, beginning to stagger about as the room spun around him, his mind cloudy and muddled. He didn’t even know how many cigarettes he had gone through by now but his voice was hoarse and dry. Roger didn’t know what time it was, but he was tired enough now that he figured it was time to go home; it felt late.

The only problem was that he forgot what table they had and more and more people had come in that it was impossible to see the bassist anymore. He felt panic surging wildly in his chest and needed to get some air.

He hurried outside as fast as his numbed body would take him. Once he reached fresh air, he took a deep breath and relaxed against the wall of the building. He didn’t see John, but unfortunately, someone else that was familiar _did_ see him.

“You fucking poof! You knocked my friend’s tooth out!”  It was the same man from last week.

_Fuck._

Roger straightened up, ready for a fight. He wasn’t going to back down from it, because that wasn’t the kind of person he was. He glared at the man. “Well you gave my friend a black eye so I’m ready to do this as well…”

Before he had time to react, he suddenly felt a sharp punch to his face and tasted blood. He spit it out onto the ground and then went to punch the guy, but then found himself on his back and felt himself getting punched over and over again. He weakly tried to fight him off but the alcohol had such a negative effect on him that his limbs felt too heavy and his reactions were definitely below par. He felt like he might pass out when he heard a familiar voice and heard footsteps running to his side.

“Get off him!” John yelled, somehow finding the strength to pull the man off of Roger, getting threateningly between him and Roger.

“I don’t want to see you two poofs around here! There’s no need for your kind here!” He shouted at him.

“Fuck off before I call the police!” John shouted back, fury in his voice. He watched as the man stormed back into the bar with a slight smirk that sent chills down his back.

They needed to get out of here before he brought his friends out. John helped Roger up and practically dragged the drummer to his van before helping him inside and started to drive back home. He looked over at the blonde who had blood running down his face, his nose looking broken, his lip bleeding pretty badly again, bruises already lining his face.

His heart raced as guilt started to flood him. He had done this to Roger; he had brought him here, he had lost him inside the bar, he had let him drink to excess, he had let him get into a fight. Brian and Freddie were surely to blame him for this. They’d kick him out of the band for being a bad influence on Roger, making his current mental situation worse.

He hit the steering wheel a few times in frustration at himself until they arrived home. He sighed and took a deep breath before he forced himself to shut the car off and helped Roger inside the flat. He looked around, not seeing any sign of anyone until he helped Roger towards his room, John’s arm around Roger as he held the drummers hand around his neck. He looked over and saw Brian suddenly staring at them in shock.

_Shit shit shit._

“R-Rog? What the hell happened…?” Brian stammered, helping John get Roger to his bed and lay him down. He turned to John for answers, anger spread on his face now. “What happened, John?!”

The bassist was scared at the look of Roger’s bloody face that he couldn’t even answer Brian. He just shook his head helplessly in shock.

Brian walked over to Roger to examine him; he hadn’t taken nearly as many first aid or medical classes as Roger had but he knew that his friend definitely had a broken nose at the very least. He wasn’t sure how to reset it, though. He hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth before he wet it with cool water and hurried back to the bedroom.

He looked at John with slightly calmer eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can sleep in Freddie’s room tonight, John. I’m going to sleep in here with Roger to make sure he’s okay. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

He didn’t leave any room for argument so John just nodded and cast an apologetic look in his direction before he walked out and towards Freddie’s room for the night. Once John was out of sight, Brian turned his attention to Roger.

Would he had done this if they hadn’t fought earlier? He knew it was somewhat narcissistic to believe his friend had drank himself into oblivion and gotten into a fight because of their own fight but he couldn’t think of any other reason why Roger would act so recklessly. It scared him to think that it was because of Roger’s suicidal ideations.

He went to work cleaning Roger’s face of blood, pinching the bridge of his nose until the bleeding had stopped after several minutes. He fixed up the drummer’s lip with a couple of butterfly bandages in the worse areas and was satisfied with the aftermath of his amateur first aid given his lack of experience.

He crawled under the covers with Roger and made sure the blonde was tucked in before he shut the light off but didn’t go to sleep until he was sure that Roger was breathing all right.

 

**……. .. ……. … ………. … ………..**

The next morning Roger woke up with a start before feeling panic overtake him. He sat up abruptly, looking around the room, his mind making him believe he was somewhere else as a figure loomed over him like he had done so many times before. He let out a cry of panic, pulling at the covers hard as he felt trapped by the sheets.

Brian woke up at the movement and sat up to see Roger crying out and panicking. He wrapped an arm around the other man to stop him. “Hey, hey! You’re okay, Rog. You’re home! You’re home with us… you’re safe!”

Roger took a shaky breath before he looked at Brian in surprise and then looked around. He ran his hands through his hair and then winced at how much pain he felt in his face suddenly.

He felt around with his hands, feeling the butterfly stitches in selective places and then felt his crooked nose, wincing again. His head was pounding and he felt nauseous now.

_What had happened last night? Why did he hurt so much?_

Brian gave him a moment to collect himself before he saw his confused look. “You got into a fight last night, a pretty bad one, by the looks of it. Your nose is broken…”

Roger swallowed hard, not liking this feeling of not knowing what happened. He rubbed his temples in agony. “C-Can I have some aspirin?”

“Yeah, sure.” Brian quickly got up and walked down the hall before he came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and two aspirin, handing both to Roger.

The blonde quickly swallowed the pills for relief and then took another breath to try to calm himself, calm the panic he was feeling in his chest. He looked at Brian hesitantly who watched him with calm and patient eyes.

“What happened last night, Rog?” He asked curiously, searching the man’s face.

Roger shook his head, trying to remember. There were gaps in his memory, though. “I… I only remember bits and pieces. U-Umm….”

Brian moved closer to him, placing a hand on the drummer’s knee as he sat across from him now. “It’s okay, Rog. Take your time, mate.”

He looked down at his hands, trying to piece last night together. “J-John and I went to a bar last night… he only had one drink, I think, but… I had… I had a lot. Ummm… at one point, I didn’t know what time it was but… I remember I wanted to go home but I couldn’t find John. I felt so tired. I felt… scared and… panicky, so… I went outside for fresh air but… I saw someone and I guess I must have gotten into a fight with him.”

“Seems like a pretty good guess to me,” Brian sighed softly.

“Did Deaky say anything last night about it?”

The guitarist shook his head. “No, he looked like he was in shock or something. You were bleeding quite a lot. I had to clean you up.”

Roger sighed and looked away, wishing he knew everything that had happened last night. He hoped that he hadn’t hurt John. “S-Sorry.”

“Rog, do you remember anything else last night? Did you talk to anyone besides John or… linger at the bar or anything?” He searched Roger’s eyes.

The questions brought up an ugly realization now and he only felt sicker. “What, you think someone might’ve drugged me last night?”

Brian shrugged and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, but it’s something that’s possible, right?”

Roger knew that it was something that did happen to people but he didn’t believe that it happened to him. He shook his head surely now. “No, I wasn’t drugged, Bri. I just… drank a lot. I had at least six or seven pints.”

The other man seemed to relax a little at how certain Roger was that he hadn’t been drugged. He nodded now in acknowledgement, his eyes free of judgement. “All right. Why don’t you relax? Go back to sleep if you need to. I’m just going to go out there and make the coffee for everyone.”

Roger nodded and lay back down in the bed but didn’t think he’d be able to go back to sleep now.

Brian walked out to the kitchen, closing Roger’s door behind him, and noticed that John was awake and sitting on the couch. He made the coffee and turned it on before he walked over to where the bassist was.

“Hey, John,” he spoke gently.

The bassist sat up quickly. “Hey. Is… is Roger all right?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He has some bruising and a lot of cuts but he’ll live. Whoever punched him was wearing some rings. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Deaky?”

John knew this was coming this morning but he still felt the sense of dread and guilt in his stomach. He shook his head. “No, go ahead.”

Brian crossed his arms in front of his chest, not sure what else to do with them right now; he felt so antsy for answers.

“Start at the beginning. What happened when you got to the bar last night? How was Roger acting or talking? Just tell me what you know, all right?”

John nodded and sat forward on the couch anxiously. “We arrived at the bar, we ordered drinks, and Rog and I got a table and we started talking. Umm… I asked him if he was close to your first singer, Tim. He said he wasn’t and he looked a bit upset and he said he hated him. Then I asked him what you thought about him, he said he wasn’t entirely sure but that you weren’t fond of him either.”

Brian nodded, his eyes giving nothing away. “Go on, John,” he urged him gently.

“Roger was drinking pretty fast. I told him to take it easy and that we had all night but he said he was just there to drink and forget, and basically warned me not to ruin his night. He said that he’d find me when he was done and by that time he was on his third pint,” John bit his lip before pausing for a few moments. “Then he got up and walked away.”

Brian tensed a little, running his hand through his curls. “What then?”

John shrugged. “I… I tried looking for him, but the place was packed and I didn’t see him anywhere. I looked for an hour and he was probably too busy moving around the building that we never saw each other until later. I found him outside and this guy was on top of him just… punching him. I yelled for him to get off and then… got between the two of them and I threatened to call the police, and he ran off.”

Brian took his in, nodding as he listened, grateful that John could piece the night together in the parts that Roger was unable to.

“I-I’m so sorry, Brian… I should’ve followed him, made sure he was all right…” John suddenly stammered, fear and panic in his voice.

The panic woke something up in Brian and he knelt down in front of the other man, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Hey, no… don’t go there, John. You did fine. Roger does whatever he wants to do and he wouldn’t have let you stop him from doing it. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done to protect him. You did enough. That was good though, threatening to call the police, yeah? Thank you for looking out for Roger.”

He meant the words he spoke and gave the bassist a small, reassuring smile. When John nodded, Brian stood back up again and brought him a cup of coffee before he spoke again.

“You didn’t… see anyone slip anything into his drink or anything, did you?”

“I only saw his first three, and no… I didn’t see anything strange like that. What did he say about it?”

Brian shrugged but shook his head. “He seems sure that he wasn’t drugged either,” he sighed. “Did you happen to catch what the fight was about?”

John remembered something just then. “It was the same guy from last week that Roger got into the other fight with. He called us poofs and told us that… there was no need for our kind around there.”

Brian sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in Roger’s mess, John, but I _am_ glad you looked out for him and brought him home.”

“Of course.”

Roger gently patted his arm. “You’re a good man, John.”

It was then when they heard a door slowly open and saw Roger cautiously step out, making John’s throat catch sharply when he saw the drummer’s physical state. Even though Brian had cleaned him up, he looked worse this morning than he did last night.

“Couldn’t get back to sleep?” Brian glanced over at his friend.

Roger shook his head. “No, my head still bloody hurts. Is there any coffee?” He walked into the kitchen and poured himself cup before he sat down at the table and lit a cigarette.

Brian leaned against the wall before he walked over to the other man and started feeling around for bumps on his head. Roger instantly pushed him away weakly.

“Oi, what the hell are you doing?”

“Feeling to see if you could have a concussion,” he explained.  “It would explain your headaches you’ve been having.”

“Relax, Bri. I’m just hungover. I’ll live.” He took another sip of coffee.

John looked at Brian who didn’t seem surprised that the drummer was hungover.

“What was your dream about this morning, Rog?” Brian asked carefully, glancing from John back to the other man.

Roger also looked at John, wondering what he had told Brian. He took a drag off his cigarette before exhaling the smoke, looking away and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I-I don’t know. I can’t remember it.”

Brian watched his friend’s body language and he feared the worst. He chewed on his bottom lip before he glanced over at John.

“John, would you mind giving us a few minutes alone, please?” He asked, not unkindly.

The bassist was surprised but he stood up. “Yeah, sure.”

Roger stood up now, placing a gentle hand on John’s chest to stop him from leaving the room. “Wait, no. John, you can sit back down. You don’t need to go anywhere.”

Brian rose his eyebrows. “You want to discuss your dream in front of him? You’re okay with that?”

“No, I’m not discussing my dream with anyone because it’s over with and it doesn’t even matter! Don’t tell Deaky to leave the room because I’m not telling you anything!”

John was beyond confused right now whether to stay or go and could tell that Brian was losing patience again with him. From how the guitarist was talking, though, it seemed like he knew what Roger’s dream had actually been about.

“Roger… you know why you drank so much last night, and… I think you need to come to terms with it.” Brian glanced over at John with hesitant eyes. He didn’t want to pull out all of Roger’s baggage in front of him like this but would do it if he had to.

The drummer gave him a warning look before he shook his head. “It wasn’t because of… that. It was because of you! It’s because of everything you’re doing, Brian!”

The other man looked skeptical. “I might’ve been a part of the reason but it wasn’t the main reason. Do you really want John here while we talk about this, Rog?”

He rubbed his head and then threw his cup a few inches away from Brian. “Shut up! I’m not talking about this at all!” He stormed back into his room and slammed the door.

John was surprised at Roger’s behavior about something he didn’t know. He was even more surprised Freddie hadn’t come out of his room at all the noise; either the singer was used to the arguments or he had gone somewhere else last night.

It was the bassist’s turn to get frustrated. He turned on Brian.

“What the hell are you doing, Brian? Why did you upset him like that? Whatever his dream was about, he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it! Why does it matter anyway? You didn’t have to force him to –"

Brian looked at John in surprise, not having expected him to get mad, and not having ever seen him act like he was either. “Excuse me, John, but I think I know Roger a little better than you, yeah? I know what his dream was about because he’s woken up like he did a lot after it happened. He’s never talked to me about it though but I know something happened with him.”

“What are you on about?” John shook his head. “He’s going through enough shit right now and the last thing he wants to do, I’m sure, is relive something that’s tortured him!”

Brian laughed humorlessly and shook his head as well. “Don’t be talking about something you know nothing about.”

“Then tell me! Tell me what’s going on so we can talk about it!”

Brian started cleaning up the shards of cup and spilled coffee on the floor. “It’s not my ordeal to talk about. He’s barely told me anything…” he admitted, sighing.

John ran his hand through his hair, needing answers. More importantly, though, he needed to talk to Roger because it was evident that he was suffering. Whatever it was, he hadn’t started acting like he did last night until John mentioned Tim Staffell, so maybe it had to do with him. Whatever it was, it could be the reason why Roger didn’t want to be around anymore, and that scared John more than anything.


	10. secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: there is the conversation of rape in this chapter so please be careful, and I apologize for not adding this sooner.

**.     .     .**

John waited until Brian had gone outside for fresh air to cool off before he walked over and gently knocked on Roger’s door.

“I-It’s me, Roger… may I come in?”

There were a few moments of silence before a voice came from inside.

“All right. I guess so.”

John walked inside the room and shut the door behind him. He saw Roger smoking on the bed, looking down at his lap. He chewed on his lower lip before he joined the blonde on the bed, giving him a little room still.

“Do you want to talk?”

Roger shrugged and took a drag. “Not especially. I’m fine, Deaky…”

John didn’t believe it for a second. He knew something was up; that much was fairly obvious and he wasn’t an idiot. He moved a bit closer so he was sitting across from him now.

“Can I ask… what happened in your dream?” He asked softly.

Roger was quiet as he quietly smoked his cigarette until a cloud of smoke hung in the air. He searched John’s face before he spoke. “I dreamt that… there was this… figure hovering over me but I couldn’t see his face and he just looked… like he was going to hurt me, I guess. I was s-so scared, in my dream.”

John felt a sick feeling wash over him now, watching as Roger rubbed his free palm on his leg anxiously. He noticed how uneasy the drummer looked. He swallowed hard. “Do you know the man?”

The other man sighed shakily and nodded, taking a last drag before he put the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. John though that he was going to light another one straight after but he restrained himself.

“Did you get on with your father, Roger? I mean, it could be him in your dream.”

Roger instantly shook his head. “No, it’s not him.”

John knew what person to try next but he had been trying to hold it back lest he upset Roger or make him angry. He had figured it out earlier talking to Brian. “Tim? You seemed upset last night when we started talking about him.”

The drummer took a deep breath, feeling the panic rise up inside his chest again. He took a breath to try and stop his panic attack before it even started, both his palms sliding across his pants now. He stood up and hurried to the window before he opened it halfway, letting in the cold winter air inside the flat.

“I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t mean to upset you,” John spoke sincerely, walking over to him.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head, quiet for a long time as he focused on breathing. When he finally turned to look at John, the bassist could see the terror in his eyes and felt sick again.

“What did he do to you, Roger?” He asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer.

Roger shook his head, rubbing his eyes roughly when he felt tears rise up in them. He sniffed and cleared his throat in an attempt to stop himself from crying. He looked at John with the most broken look the bassist had ever seen in a person and he felt his heart break.

“I-I haven’t… fuck… I haven’t even told Brian w-what he did…” He sniffed again before he took a couple more deep breaths.

John didn’t want to press him too hard so he turned the topic a little. “What did you tell Brian your reason was for wanting Tim out of the band?”

This seemed to relax Roger slightly. He scratched his temple in thought. “Umm… I just told him that Tim and I kept getting into fights and… that I’d be easier to deal with if he wasn’t in the band anymore.”

The last part made John nauseous. _Easier to deal with. A burden._ Roger was anything but that. He was a very emotional person, on both ends of the spectrum.

John wet his lips before he looked at Roger. “I think he knows that something happened between the two of you, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He just suspects that it wasn’t good.”

Roger let out a snort before he shook his head. “Got that right…”

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for about ten minutes. Roger was probably just grateful that the bassist wasn’t pressing him. He looked at John and searched his eyes, seeing the questioning in them, but also seeing the sympathy and understanding in them as well. He actually did light another cigarette now before he took a drag from it. He knew he owed John an explanation. He was in the band, and practically, if not officially, living with them now.

He knew that he hadn’t even told Brian about it, and perhaps that wasn’t too good with how long they’d been friends but he remembered his words.

_“If you can talk to John instead of me, then that’s fine.”_

He had seemed pretty understanding about telling John things he couldn’t tell Brian. He took another drag.

“I… want to tell you, John… but I want your word that you won’t tell Brian unless I say it’s okay. All right?”

The other man nodded instantly, searching Roger’s beaten face. “Of course, yeah. I promise.”

Roger nodded thankfully and he was took another drag before he exhaled slowly. He knew that this could either help him or be the biggest mistake of his life but he hoped for the former. He finally trusted John, more so than he thought he trusted Brian, but it was easier to talk to John.

He clenched and unclenched his fist as he remembered Tim Staffell. “We didn’t get on at the get go. We automatically had our differences with each other and we couldn’t agree to anything. Brian got so frustrated at the two of us, and… I tried… I did, but… I couldn’t stop fighting with him. He… got tired of it one day and while Brian was at class and Freddie was off doing… whatever, it was just the two of us. He came into my room and… he just went all out on me, punching me like crazy and just when I thought it was over, he… I… I heard him unzip his pants, and I automatically started to try to make him get off of me…” He knit his eyebrows in memory, taking a long drag before he continued.

“He… hit my head against the headboard and just… knocked me out cold. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache and… I… could feel the pain… _there_ , and it really hurt. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for me to wake up and told me that he was trying to break me, so I wouldn’t fight him on anything anymore, so I knew who the real Alpha was.”

“Fucking Christ…” John felt nauseous again and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-I’m so sorry, Rog… d-did you report him?”

Roger shook his head and shrugged. “Police don’t believe in rape between two guys, Deaky. They just… always think it’s consensual. I’d just get laughed at if I tried to report it and… Tim knew it.”

The bassist felt angry on behalf of Roger; he wanted to strangle Tim now. He swallowed hard, looking down. “How were things between you two after that?”

“Tense,” Roger nodded once in thought, finishing his cigarette and putting it out. “I was too afraid to go against him so I just went along with him. Brian could tell something had happened but he didn’t know what, and I’ve never told him.”

“Why do you think you don’t want to tell him? Are you afraid of what he’ll say?”

John knew he was asking a lot of questions and prying into sensitive stuff right now but they just poured out of him so easily that he couldn’t stop himself.

Roger shrugged. “I guess… I’m afraid he won’t believe me, that he’ll just… laugh or something. I don’t know. It’s just fucking awful sometimes. I have moments where I _swear_ on my life that I can still feel him, _there…_ in me. Fuck, John…” he sighed to himself, shifting uncomfortably now.

“I’m sorry, Rog. I really am. You didn’t deserve that, at all. No matter how much you two were fighting, that was rape. He… he raped you, Roger.”

“I know,” the drummer nodded in understanding. “I couldn’t report him, though. What the hell was I going to do about it?”

“Roger, I’m not judging you. I haven’t had it happen to me but… I assume it would be terrifying to try to report something like this, especially with how things are right now. There was no good way to deal with this situation.”

Roger nodded as he listened, his anger seeming to be kept at bay. He looked more nervous than anything right now. He took another shaky breath and looked away, hating that he felt tears falling from his eyes.

He rubbed them with his fingers, clearing his throat as he tried to avoid John’s gaze. “Shit. I’m sorry, Deaky. I just… thought I was over this.”

John moved closer to him and he pulled him into a hug, feeling Roger automatically put his arms around him as he buried his face into John’s shoulder. He held the blonde tighter and suddenly felt his body rise and fall in quicker motions; he was sobbing. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened so of course he was.

He didn’t let go of the other man for about half an hour, just letting Roger cry it out until he gently pulled away, his eyes red and swollen now. John took his thumb and wiped away a stray tear.

Roger chuckled weakly. “I’m… sorry, about this. I didn’t mean to… just unload all that on you, John. It just came out… I don’t think I’ve really felt anything until now, about what happened.”

John shook his head. “No, please. Don’t apologize, Rog. Really, it’s fine. It’s good that you let it out instead of holding it in, yeah?”

The blonde nodded in agreement and cleared his throat again, the two of them quiet for a while before John spoke again.

“I know that you’ve been pretty depressed lately but… do you think it’s this that’s made you feel like dying?”

Roger swallowed hard and tongued his cheek before he nodded. “Y-Yeah, I… think it’s a part of it. He said that… I was nothing, and… that Brian would be better off without me around, and… I’ve really thought of nothing else since he said that to me because I _know_ he meant that I was better off dead than alive.”

John put his hand on the drummer’s knee gently. “I know that you know Brian better than I do, but… I don’t think he would laugh or not believe you if you told him this. I know you two have your differences and you haven’t been getting on well lately but… I think it’d help you to tell him.”

“No,” Roger said quickly, sternly. “You promised me you wouldn’t tell him, and I’m not about to tell him so…” He trailed off, his eyes turning threatening.

“I won’t tell him, Rog. You’re right; I made a promise and… this secret isn’t mine to tell. I’m just… making a suggestion that might help you, that’s all.”

John saw Roger relax again and calm washed over his eyes now. He ran a hand through his hair before he wiped his face again.

John watched him carefully before he looked at him with concern in his eyes. “You know that Tim is an arsehole and that Brian actually wouldn’t be better off without you, right, Roger?”

Roger gave a nod but looked away, down at his hands. _He believed his words._ He felt his heart break again and he wrapped an arm around the drummer’s shoulders, gently bringing him in closer. He knew this was probably the most physical contact he’d had with the blonde besides the hugs, but he needed Roger to believe him.

“I’m serious, Rog. Tim sounds like he was an abusive motherfucker and… you didn’t deserve what he did to you.”

The curse made the other man look up at him again and he let out a weak chuckle. “Thanks, Deaky. I just… I don’t know how to talk about it with Brian or Freddie. I’m just stuck with Tim’s words in my head every day when I wake up and... what he did to me. It makes me so angry. I should’ve… done something.”

John knitted his brows again. “What?”

Roger clenched his fist and hit the windowsill. “I should’ve done something, John!” He yelled in a hushed whisper, his voice threatening to crack again. “I-I should’ve stopped him! I should have been able to… stop him and get him off, but I did nothing!”

“You couldn’t have done anything, Roger… I’m not saying that in a mean way because I mean that you _literally_ wouldn’t have been able to do anything,” John pressed. “He knocked you out, Rog. You were unconscious when he raped you. There was nothing you could’ve done, yeah? You understand that, right?”

Roger didn’t look convinced. He just shrugged and shook his head before he looked away as more tears fell from his eyes, betraying his relatively calm demeanor. He swallowed hard and soon John saw his body rapidly moving up and down as he sobbed quietly.

John bit his lip as he watched him worriedly. He hadn’t properly dealt with this trauma and he had been keeping it from Brian this whole time. He had shoved it deep down inside of himself until today. The bassist felt horrible for having been the one to trigger it in Roger but he knew that he needed the other man to talk about it, for his own well-being. He just hoped he hadn’t made things worse.

He was about to give Roger private time alone when he suddenly felt the blonde pull him closer to him and felt arms around him tightly. John wrapped an arm around him but gently moved them over to the bed so they could at least be comfortable. He hugged Roger and let him cry on his literal shoulder, gently caressing the man’s back as he did so.

“It’s going to be okay, Rog,” he said softly. “It will, I promise. We’ll get through this, mate.”

“I-I don’t w-want to,” Roger sobbed into John’s shirt.

This made the bassist tense up slightly but he just held him closer. “I know you don’t… but if you give up and you go through with it, then Tim wins, and neither of us want that, right?”

Roger shook his head and John smiled weakly to himself, feeling like he might be getting through to him. After a few more minutes, he forced himself to lean back and away from John. He wiped his face and flinched when he felt the cuts on his face. He cleared his throat and then heard a knock at the door.

Roger jumped up so fast that John thought he had fallen off the bed but then saw him answer the door, as if he was afraid of being caught.

Brian looked shocked at seeing Roger’s swollen eyes and seeing John sitting on the bed. He searched his friend’s face.

“Everything all right?”

Roger nodded, looking annoyed. “Fine. What do you want, Bri?”

“Umm… Freddie’s back and he’s asking to play Scrabble. Would you like to join us?”

“No, Brian. I wouldn’t.” He was about to slam the door close when Brian put his hand out to stop it. He looked at him in disbelief.

“Join us, Bri, please,” he looked over at John now. “And of course you’re invited too, John.”

“Cheers,” the bassist thanked him. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

Brian looked a bit suspicious but nodded and finally closed the door. John looked over at Roger who sighed heavily.

“In case you missed our conversation earlier, I’m not really in the mood to play fucking Scrabble, John.” Roger sat back down on the bed.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” John said matter-of-factly. “You should be around us and not in here alone, in the dark, thinking about bad things. I’ll still be out there with you.”

Roger looked down at his cut up knuckles on his hand and took a shaky breath, nodding finally. “Just one game, and then I’m going back to bed.”

“Fine, one game.”

One Scrabble game turned into five, and then they had introduced drinks into the mix. Every time someone did a three letter, or less word, that person had to take a shot. By their fifth game, Roger was shitfaced, Freddie was getting there, and John and Brian were the only sober ones in the room.

John suspected that Roger was doing it on purpose though, just to be able to drown his sorrows in alcohol. He glanced over at Brian as the other man made another three letter word and he knew that the guitarist was suspecting it as well. Their eyes met and he knew he was in trouble.

They were knowing eyes, that John knew something about Roger that Brian didn’t know. He swallowed hard and looked over at Freddie who was grinning at him drunkenly but his eyes were smiling. John smiled back at the singer and then watched as Brian played a mind-blowing fifty point word.

“Aaand I believe I win, and that’s game.”

“Fuck!” Roger sighed but was too drunk to be properly angry, especially around the band. He let out a frustrated laugh before he lay down on his back on the floor.

“Let’s go an intermission, darling,” Freddie suggested. “I need to use the loo and grab another bottle of whiskey.

Brian looked from John over to Freddie and nodded, smiling softly.  “Yeah, sure. Let’s say ten minutes.”

“Thank you, dear.” Freddie groaned as he go on his feet and hurried towards the bathroom, Roger still laying on the floor with his eyes closed.

Brian leaned in to John. “Can I have a word please, Deaky?”

John was dreading this moment and knew it was going to happen eventually, but he had hoped to have more time than a few hours. “Umm… yeah, of course.”

He followed Brian to his bedroom and felt sick when he saw him close the door for privacy before turning to him.

“What were you two talking about in his room earlier?”

John searched the guitarist’s face. “I’m sorry?”

Brian was already looking impatient. “I know Roger, and ever since last night, he’s been really standoffish with me, argumentative. I need to know what happened with him that night, John. It’s important that I know, for the good of the band.”

“I told you everything, Brian. I swear,” John searched his face.

“You know something that I don’t about Roger, and you need to tell me, right now.”

“I’m sorry, Bri. I can’t do that.”

Brian shook his head. “Yes, you can. You have to. You don’t have a choice in the matter right now, John.”

“It’s not mine to tell! If you want to know, ask him yourself!” John suddenly shouted at him.

Brian tensed now and opened the door slowly to look out but saw that Roger was still on the floor with his eyes closed. He shut the door again before looking back at the bassist.

“I’m asking _you._ I’m serious, John. His behavior is scaring me.”

John was the one starting to feel angry and frustrated now; perhaps Roger’s personality was rubbing off on him. “Good! Maybe it should get your attention.”

Brian’s eyes went wide now and he moved closer to John, searching his face. “Please… tell me what happened. Whatever it is… we’ll help Roger get through it. I won’t get mad at him.”

“You better not,” John warned now, feeling protective of the drummer. “It’s not even his fault!”

“What isn’t? What isn’t his fault, John?” Brian persisted.

The bassist took a shaky breath. He knew he had promised Roger not to tell Brian, but he needed to know what had happened his friend. John couldn’t lug this secret around on his shoulders all by himself. It was just too heavy. He bit his lip hard and felt fearful tears filling his eyes, knowing he was about to betray one of his best friends.

“Roger… was raped,” he whispered now.

Brian cocked his head to the side in confusion and horror. “W-What…? What do you mean he was raped, John? Last night?”

“No,” John shook his head. “Not last night. He actually didn’t tell me when it happened but… it was a night when you were in class and Fred was out, and… Tim was tired of Roger and putting up with his temper. He… hit his head against the headboard and knocked him out and… he…” John trailed off, sighing in disgust.

Brian froze now, his mind spinning. He felt nauseous and dizzy at the same time. “H-He had a bruise on his head a couple months ago. He told me he didn’t know how he had gotten it. Oh my god…” he ran his hands through his hair in distress, shaking his head as he paced now.

“Please, Brian… please don’t mention this to him. He made me promise not to tell you.”

The taller man looked at him. “What? Why didn’t he want me to know about this?”

John shrugged, shaking his head. “He thought you wouldn’t believe him or… that you’d laugh at him or something. I’m not entirely sure. I think he felt really embarrassed about it.”

Brian felt so sick with himself. Roger couldn’t even tell him about something so serious because of what’s been going on between the two of them, probably ever since they had kicked Tim out. Roger had been suffering with this all alone.

“I need to talk to him about this tomorrow when he’s sober…”

John shook his head now. “No. You shouldn’t. If you tell him about this, then he’ll know I told you –"

“I don’t care, John! This isn’t grade school anymore and he’s my best mate! This is the kind of information that needs to be talked about! You can’t have thought you’d just keep this secret from me forever!”

“For fuck’s sake, Brian, I wasn’t going to keep it from you forever! Just until I could convince Roger to tell you about it!” John ran his hands through his hair, regretting telling the guitarist about this now.

He had fucked up and now he couldn’t even take it back. He had betrayed Roger’s trust in the span of a few hours.

_Fuck. Fuck it._

Brian sighed and looked at John. “I’m sorry, John, but this is too important to not talk about with him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, and it’s just going to make him worse.”

The guitarist shook his head before he walked back out into the hallway. John felt so angry that he kicked the bed hard before also going out into the hallway. He knelt down at the board but saw Roger’s breathing even and knew he was asleep.

He had passed out.

Freddie came back now. “All right, darlings! I’m ready for the next round.”

“I think Roger’s asleep,” John spoke softly. “I don’t know if we can move him.” He knew that Brian was a bigger guy but Roger was just dead weight at this point and Brian was more tall than strong.

“It’s fine, dear. We can just give him a blanket and let him sleep out here.”

“I’ll keep him company, make sure he’s okay,” John said right away. The other men looked surprised at this but shrugged and went to their rooms to sleep.

 The bassist grabbed a blanket from the couch before he grabbed two pillows and put one under Roger’s head before his own and covered the two of them up with the same blanket. He snuggled against the drummer’s back and breathed him in, afraid that the man would never let him get this close to him ever again after tomorrow.


	11. who needs you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes:
> 
> \- I apologize for no new chapters for a few days. I came down with a stomach flu but am 100% again. 
> 
> \- I know this chapter ends a bit suddenly but I tried and couldn't figure out a good place to end so sorry for that. Don't let it stop your comments though because I LOVE reading all of them! Thank you all for reading and bookmarking and kudo-ing! I really appreciate it.

**.    .     .**

Roger groaned softly, putting his hands to his head as he felt the hangover take over his body. He tried to sit up but felt arms around him, weighing him down. He gently untangled himself and looked over at who had slept beside him.

_John._

He rubbed his eyes tiredly but managed to get up and go to the coffee machine, already brewed and ready for him. He was surprised when he saw Brian come out with two aspirin and a glass of water. Roger eyed him suspiciously as he swallowed the pills.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Brian gave him an innocent look. “Sorry? I don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. I’m always nice to you.”

“Bollocks,” Roger muttered as he poured his coffee and sat down, watching the guitarist sit down beside him with his own coffee. “You’re _never_ nice to me after a night of drinking. You usually just shake your head all self-righteously and warn me about my liver.”

Brian shrugged and only smiled a little before he moved his chair is closer to the drummer, wrapping his arm around the back of his chair as he drank his coffee. Roger looked at him curiously, too aware of his out of character behavior now.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Brian shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” but the look in his eye told Roger the exact opposite. “I just wanted to me nice to you. Jesus, Rog. Can’t I just be nice?”

Roger took a drink of coffee and looked over to John, an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He felt the anxiety inching up his body and reached over for his cigarettes before Brian suddenly pulled them away from him.

“Oi! What are you doing, mate?”

Brian gave him a stern look. “You need to cut down a little on them, Rog. At the rate you’ve been smoking, you’re going to get bloody lung cancer.”

The drummer threw his arms up in frustration, nearly knocking the coffee cup over; Brian had quickly moved the cup out of the way in time, though.

“This is bollocks! I can’t even smoke? Come on, Bri. _At least_ let me have that. What’s gotten into you? You’re acting bloody weird,”

Brian sighed and looked at John quickly before looking back at his friend, done with pretending, done with the secrets and pretending. He was quiet though as he took another drink.

“What’s going on, Brian?” Roger asked again, raising his voice now. “I’m asking you a –"

Brian finally turned his attention to Roger, interrupting him. “Why didn’t you tell me what had happened, Rog?” He asked him quietly, searching his face.

The drummer tensed but still looked angry. “Tell you about what?”

“Tim,” Brian answered softly. “What he did to you?”

Roger clenched and unclenched his fist before he felt panic heavy in his chest now. His fist clenching turned into palm rubbing on his thighs. He shook his head. “Nothing. Happened.”

Brian knew this was about to go sideways fast and he didn’t want the shrapnel to hit John. He helped Roger up and moved the two of them into Brian’s room before he shut the door, sitting Roger down on the bed.

“We both already know what happened, Roger…” he whispered.

When Roger looked up at him, he had tears in his eyes. “Then why the hell do _I_ have to tell you what you already know?!”

Brian swallowed hard, feeling his heart ache for the man. He put both hands gently on his shoulders. “I just want to hear it from you, Rog. I want to hear your side of things, yeah? I just… want you to tell me. Maybe John misunderstood something you said…? I don’t know, I just want your truth.”

Roger scoffed now in disgust and anger. “ _J-John…_ I shouldn’t have ever told h-him… fuck!” The tears were running down his cheeks now as he roughly wiped them away. His hands clenched into fists again, feeling panicked and furious, full of rage, hurt.

“Hey, hey… don’t blame John. I basically forced him to tell me. He didn’t have a choice. Please… just talk to me, Roger.”

“No,” he said instantly, shaking his head and standing up from the bed. “I didn’t h-have a choice either, so fuck off. You both can just fuck off!” He yelled.

Brian grabbed him as he started to walk past him and tried to push him back again, but Roger’s anger made him stronger. “Rog, no… stay here, please! We need to talk about this!”

The drummer smacked Brian’s arms away from him before he looked at him dangerously. “Don’t. Touch. Me. I need to get the hell out of here…”

He pushed past Brian and left the room before he headed for his own and pulled on a pair of bell bottom jeans and a shirt, quickly pulling both items of clothing on, his mind racing.

“Rog, please don’t leave right now. You’re not in a good state of mind and I think you should stay here and talk about this,” Brian urged, spreading out so he was blocking the doorway. “I’m sorry I… sprung it on you but I just want to know what happened to you. We need to talk about this.”

“No, I’m done with t-talking, Bri,” Roger wiped at his face roughly as he put his shoes on.

“You’ve never talked about this with me. Only John,” Brian tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. “We’ve known each other for years and you’ve only known him for a week now, and you’re able to tell him this, but not me?”

Roger shoved Brian out of the doorway before he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter off the table, shoved them into his pockets before he turned on the guitarist who was following him, making him stumble back a little at Roger’s sudden movement.

“This isn’t about you, Brian!” Roger yelled at him, no longer caring about being quiet for John who was now stirring. “Piss off!”

Brian tried to reach out to grab him but Roger slammed the door hard as he stormed out and disappeared into the street. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed before he saw John sitting upright and looking at him.

“Well, that didn’t go as well as I would’ve liked.”

John stood up quickly. “You tried talking to him about it? It’s been twelve hours since I told you…”

“If what happened what you said happened, then this needs to be talked about. I need to know exactly what happened to him! I’m aware you told me but I just… I need to hear it out of his mouth. I need to, John.”

The bassist stood up and walked over to him. “Are you just going to let him go out like that?”

Brian threw his arms up. “How else was I supposed to let him go? He didn’t exactly give me a choice. I’ve seen him like this before. He’ll cool down eventually and come back home.”

John tensed and shook his head, having doubts. “You’ve tried to confront him about being raped before and he came back eventually?” John looked at him skeptically. He walked to his room and started to get dressed.

Brian followed him. “I meant I’ve seen him angry before. He always comes back. He’ll be fine.”

The younger man looked at him in disbelief in his eyes. “I doubt that, at least this time. You should’ve let me do this my way! If I had gotten time to have him tell you in his own time, then maybe he would’ve done this!”

Brian moved closer to him, his face still calm. “John, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you know how serious this is. If you misunderstood something that Roger told you, then you need to tell me.”

John was starting to feel like he knew Roger’s frustration now. He finished getting dressed and grabbed a jacket before he walked out to the living room. He was tempted to grab the van keys but didn’t want to leave Freddie or Brian without a vehicle if they needed it. He looked at Brian.

“Roger was _crying_ , Brian. He was in pain! He told me that Tim knocked him out cold and when he woke up, he was very sore in a _certain_ area and that screams rape to me, unless you’d like to come up with a theory how Roger raped himself somehow! Tim was abusive to him because of how Roger is! He was abusive to him because of his personality and that’s all I need to know!”

He saw Brian’s lips move but didn’t hear him as he also stormed out of the house, grabbing a cab before taking it to the bar they had taken him to for celebratory drinks. He didn’t know exactly where Roger would go but he knew a few places to try.

If Brian wasn’t going to go looking for him, then John would, for better or worse. He felt like this had been his own fault so he had to fix it. He had given into Brian and told him when he should’ve fought him off. He should’ve just flat out refused, put his goddamn foot down, but he hadn’t, and now that shit was on him.

It was chilly but the rain was coming down in heavy sheets by the time he had reached the Whisky-A-Go-Go bar they had taken him for drinks. He looked around and saw a dozen people there already. He didn’t see Roger at the bar so he decided to try the bathroom, looking in the half closed stalls, but didn’t see anyone.

_Fuck. Where could he be?_

When he came back out, to his surprise, he saw Freddie leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender in a friendly manner. He hurried over to him.

“Freddie? What are you doing here?”

The singer jumped in surprise and turned to look at him. “John! Brian told me about what happened this morning… I’m terribly sorry I woke up so late, darling.”

John shook his head, still in a semi state of shock. “No, it’s… it’s fine. Umm… have you seen Roger?”

Freddie gave a saddened shake of his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t, Deaky. How can I help you right now, dear?”

The bassist thought for a minute. “Umm… do you know where he might go when he gets like this? Any other bars or other places? I only know this bar and the other one we went to.”

Freddie thought for a minute. “Hmm… he surprisingly had run to a gay bar I’m familiar with, however, I don’t believe he knew it was a gay bar at the time. Oh! Try The Speakeasy, he seems fond of that place.”

“Okay,” John nodded. “Would you like to come with?” Freddie wasn’t Brian, and maybe that’s what would be the biggest draw in finding Roger right now.

Freddie looked hesitant at first but then a determined look spread on his face. “Yes, of course I’ll help you find John, darling. Let’s go, then. I’m afraid we’ll have to take a cab, though.”

John nodded and let Freddie lead him out before hailing a cab for The Speakeasy, hoping they’d have better luck there. The bassist knew he hadn’t known Roger very long, but he felt like the drummer was his brother, and he needed to find his brother. He could feel his own panic in his chest and nearly jumped when he felt Freddie’s hand slip into his own but gripped it, feeling like the contact helped stabilize him and focus.

When they arrived at The Speakeasy, it was almost noon and the lunchtime crowd had rolled in, a steady stream of people flooding the bar area. Immediately, John scanned the area for anyone with long, blonde hair.

“Split up, darling,” Freddie ordered. “I’ll look in the loo and the floor. Maybe stay around here or check outside?”

John nodded and watched the singer made his way towards the bathrooms. He looked around and watched for anyone coming inside who looked like Roger. After about ten minutes of staying inside, he decided to look around outside.

Maybe Roger had gotten into another fight or had gone outside for a smoke or something. He hurried outside in the pouring rain but didn’t see him. He checked around the sides as well but came up empty, feeling a bit more panicked that he couldn’t find him. He saw Freddie come out twenty minutes later but the singer simply shrugged.

The two of them took shelter inside of the cab and it was only when they were both inside when John suddenly hit the empty passenger seat of the cab with his arm in frustration, tears in his eyes.

Freddie glanced over at him before he leaned over and gently placed a hand on John’s arm. “Breathe, dear. I promise we _will_ find the dumb blonde. He can’t have gone too far.”

“I-It’s my fault,” John whimpered. “It’s my fault he r-ran… Brian… he made me t-tell him, and I did... and I-I had promised Roger I wasn’t going to…”

He knew that now he was telling Freddie as well but he was on the verge of having a panic attack and he had to tell someone. He took a shaky breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

Freddie turned to him and suddenly wrapped his arms around him gently. John hugged him back, burying his face into the other man’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, John. I promise. We’ll find him, we will. We just have to keep looking, that’s all. We’ll look all day and night if we have to, darling.”

John nodded in agreement. He’d look for Roger until the world was about to end, if that’s what it came to. He had gotten so close to the drummer over such a short period of time that he felt lost without him. He tried to pull himself together before forcing himself away from Freddie, wiping his face and finally calming down.

Freddie made sure that John was okay before he told the driver where to go next and then relaxed as it quickly sped towards another bar. John was starting to get antsy as the tension in the cab grew thick when they finally arrived about fifteen minutes later.

As soon as the cab stopped, John jumped out and nearly ran inside. Freddie hurried to follow him in. He gently touched the bassist’s arm to get his attention as the music of the club thumped loudly, the amount of people already getting their drink on still a bit early in the day surprising to John.

“John, we’ll do what we did at the last place, dear, okay?” When he saw him nod, Freddie made a beeline for the bathrooms.

John started scanning the bar area for Roger, trying to calm the panic in his chest. When he walked around the entire front part at least seven times, he finally went outside where it had gotten darker and the rain was still coming down hard.

He was already soaked and chilled but he wasn’t about to give up. He walked around to the side and felt utter and sheer relief when he saw Roger sitting on the ground, smoking a cigarette between semi bloody lips from where he had somehow broken open his stitches from before.

He hurried over to him and knelt down. “Roger! Come on, mate. We need to go back home…” John tried to help him up when he felt Roger suddenly shove him away from him, standing up by himself.

“You are not my mate, Deaky…” his eyes were full of rage and hurt. Roger was pacing now, still taking drags from his cigarette.

John knew he deserved that but the words still pained him to hear. He swallowed hard, slowly walking back over to him. “I’m sorry, Rog. I… am so sorry about telling Brian but he forced me! I told him I didn’t want to and that I had promised you –"

“Bollocks! You fucking betrayed me, John! I trusted you!” Roger shouted at him as they stood in the pouring rain.

“I-I know! I know you did, Roger and I regret what I did! Y-You’re right! I should’ve never told him about it! I wish I could take it back!” John didn’t mean to yell back at him but it was the only way he knew Roger could hear him over the rain.

The drummer mulled this over before he suddenly let out a sob, still pacing before he threw his cigarette on the ground. He clenched his fists angrily, shaking his head. “Then why the hell did you tell him? Did he put a gun to your head and force you?! What the fuck did he do to make you give it up so easily, John?”

John took a couple steps back when he realized that Roger was storming over to him angrily, afraid of what Roger might do. He put his hands up, tears in his eyes now. “I-I’m so sorry, Roger! He told me I had no choice in the matter of keeping it from him and... i-it was a heavy secret… I should’ve stood my ground! I s-should’ve told him t-to… to fuck off but I just… I couldn’t! I don’t know why. I just… I told him, and I have no good excuse why! I wanted you to tell him eventually! I told him I did, but he told me to tell him right then!”

Roger swallowed hard, a part of him wanting to hit John still but seeing the panic on his face made him back down. He was so used to getting into fights with people who didn’t back down and always looked so sure of themselves. He took a breath and forced himself to take a step back, wiping the tears from his face.

It was at the moment when Freddie ran out and saw the two of them. He hesitantly walked over to the two men, standing by John’s side.

“I see you’ve found him. Very good, then. Come on, Rog. Stop being a prat and come back home.”

John sighed and turned to the singer, knowing that that definitely wasn’t going to make him go home with them. “Fred, don't. Not right now, okay? Please.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but simply nodded and looked around. John looked back at Roger who looked like he had lost all his anger and now was just drenched in pain.

“I know… this whole situation is right fucked now, but… please come home with us?” John asked as softly as he could.

Roger looked down, hugging his arms around himself. “Were you really looking for me?”

John nodded, searching his face.

“I… can’t! Brian will be there a-and… I can’t look him in the eye and tell him about this yet. I just… don’t know how, John,” he ran his hands through his hair in a distressed manner.

The bassist shook his head. “That’s fine. You don’t have to! Freddie and I will make sure he doesn’t try to interrogate you about it until you say he can!”

Roger thought about this and nodded before he groaned. “Fine! Fine…”

“Good, come on. Let’s go home, mate.” John was about it pull Roger towards him when he was surprised when the blonde suddenly hugged him tightly before he patted his wet back and then started towards the street.

The three men hailed a cab and rode home somewhat quietly except for John telling Freddie what the two of them had to do. To his surprise, Freddie nodded in understanding, never asking about Roger’s secret that he couldn’t let Brian talk to him about. John didn’t suspect that Freddie didn’t care about Roger because no matter who it was, that went completely against the singer’s personality.

When they arrived home, Freddie headed inside first before John led Roger in, making a beeline for the bathroom. To no one’s surprise, Brian was right there waiting for them, his arms crossed.

“There you all are! I’ve been going out of my bloody mind trying to find out where you all went! Where was he? Roger! Talk to me!”

John had disappeared into the bathroom with Roger when Freddie stepped in front of the guitarist, gently placing both his hands on his chest.

“Now, darling, you need to back off a little bit off Roger. Let him breathe some. He’s going through a lot –"

“Not like I’d know because no one’s told me anything up until recently!”

Freddie looked at him a bit sternly now. “I’m serious, Brian. Give them time. Roger will talk to you when he’s ready but that’s not going to be right now and I’m afraid you can keep adding extra time to that the more you hound him, darling…”

John turned his attention to Roger and then instantly started to run a hot bath for the man, helping the man out of his drenched shirt. The drummer got himself out of his jeans and his underwear before he got into the tub.

“Mind if I sit here and talk?” John asked, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, does it, Deaky?” He motioned for his friend to get out his cigarettes for him.

John did so and watched him lit his own before setting the lighter on the edge of the bathtub. “Of course you have a choice, Roger,” he said gently. “With us, you always have a choice, and we shouldn’t make you feel like you don’t.”

Roger took a drag and exhaled it before he lay in the bathtub, sighing. “Right,” He looked at him and then suddenly sat upright. “Mm, join me, Deaky. You look like you’re frozen.”

The invitation made John chuckle involuntarily and he looked at him. “Sorry? Uh… no, Rog. It’s fine. You can just… take that bath by yourself.”

Roger let out a weak chuckle now and shook his head. “No, seriously. It’s stupid for you to just wait for me. We’re both smaller gents, we can fit. Get in here. I promise, no funny stuff.”

The bassist went against his better judgement and stood up before he started taking his clothes off. He locked the door and once he was naked, he quickly got into the tub and sat down, making sure he didn’t come into contact with Roger’s parts but also made sure they both still had room.

He had to admit; the heat of the water did feel nice.

Roger gave him a knowing smirk before he took another drag of the cigarette. It was then when John noticed tears in the drummer’s eyes again that he tensed up, thinking the worst.

“Tim didn’t… do this with you too, did he?” John asked quietly.

Roger shook his head. “No, no. Sorry, Deaky. I was just thinking that… I’ve never had anyone who wasn’t Brian chase after me before. I mean, he did the first few times but after a while, he stopped and I just… came home when I was hungry. Thank you, John… r-really.”

John smiled gently and shrugged. “No need to thank me, Rog. I just… want to be your friend and maybe you’d consider me a brother, like I do. I’m afraid of something happening to you.”

“To me? Oh why ever would you think that?” Roger’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “Is it because of my perpetual chain smoking or… perhaps my excessive drinking habits sometimes? Oh, it’s definitely not my increasing antisocial behavior, is it, Deaky?”

John was laughing softly and was glad to see Roger laughing as well, his mood dramatically better from earlier. He knew how fast that could change, though.

The two men started unconsciously or maybe just casually tracing each other’s legs with their fingertips. John would’ve felt highly uncomfortable had this been anyone else, but this was Roger.

“Are you okay… with this?” John glanced down underneath the water.

Roger nodded as he exhaled his cigarette smoke. “Yeah, fine. Are you okay with it?”

John nodded.

“Good…” Roger took another drag and then saw the other man eyeing it. “Would you like one? I have lots.”

“Oh, umm… no, no thank you, Rog.”

“You sure? It’s no problem. I’ll even light it for you,” the drummer looked at him invitingly and then smirked when he saw John give a reluctant nod. “Oh Deaky, you rebel, you.”

John saw him reached down and pull out the package before grabbing it, lighting it, and then handed it over to him. “Cheers.”

It was when they had met in the middle when Roger looked tense, his eyes a bit fearful and anxious. He gently grabbed John’s arm and turned it towards him slowly with his eyebrows knit. “W-What’s this, John? What happened here…?”

The bassist took his arm back now and placed the cigarette between his lips before hiding his arm under the water. He shook his head. “It’s nothing, Roger. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“Don’t worry about it? That was a pretty recognizable scar down your wrist, John,” Roger searched his face. “Tell me, please?”

John shook his head, fighting the urge to get out of the bathtub.

“You know all my secrets. It’s your turn to tell me one, Deaky. Unlike you, I won’t go blab about it to Brian,” there was both seriousness and teasing in his voice.

John looked at him and sighed heavily, knowing he wasn’t about to get out of this, and what Roger said was true. “Fine. Fine… I umm…. I tried to kill myself, several months ago.”

Roger’s eyes were now filled with concern. He swallowed hard, taking a long drag as he waited for John to explain himself. “Why?”

The other man sighed and scratched his temple, really not wanting to talk about this and feeling stupid about his reasons now. “My parents had both died, and… I was alone. Really alone. I just… didn’t want to feel alone anymore and… I was pretty severely depressed at the time so I…” He lifted his arm up momentarily before putting it back in the water.

Roger looked like he was about to cry all over again, searching John’s face. “You said that… you’ve been on medication though…”

“For about the past five months, yes. I’ve been okay lately. I haven’t felt… suicidal or anything. I’ve been fine, I promise. It’s just… something that happened in my past.”

Roger nodded in understanding and took a deep breath before he moved closer to John. He crossed his legs in the tub before he suddenly wrapped his arms around John again, this time pulling him closer to him.

“You’re not allowed to leave me here, stuck with those two out there. Okay, John? You’re the only thing that keeps me sane in this flat.”

John couldn’t help but chuckle and gently patted Roger’s arm. “All right. Fair enough.”

The tension was lifted at that moment and then John suddenly flinched as he felt a sharp pain, jumping away from Roger. “Oi! Your cigarette!”

The drummer also jumped back, hearing the alarm in his friend’s voice. “Shit! I’m sorry, John!” He put out the cigarette on the edge of the tub before he threw it out in the garbage nearby.

John chuckled. “It’s fine. Okay, let’s get out now. We’re turning prunish,” he was the first one to get out before he towel dried himself, wrapping it around his waist and then then threw one to Roger.

“Cheers.”

John opened the door to see Freddie about to knock and then grimaced when Freddie peeked inside and then smirked at John like the cat who ate the canary.

“Oh shut up,” John said knowingly.

Freddie chuckled and then took a step inside. “Are you okay, Rog? Should we consider this your big rock star nervous breakdown?”

. “You could consider this instead," Roger wrapped the towel around his waist before he flipped the singer off. "I’m fine…”

“Good, as long as you actually are and not just saying that,” Freddie watched as Roger walked closer to him and gave him a quick hug before letting him go, seeing the drummer smile. “Just remember, there’s only room for one hysterical queen in this band.”

Roger groaned and gave him a gentle shove before walking back into his room, John right behind him as they watched Freddie join Brian on the couch.


	12. save me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your comments! You all are amazing and beautiful and I always get excited to read them, haha. As you figured out, I couldn't wait to put up this chapter so I hope ya'll aren't sick of reading this fic yet! Enjoy! <3

**.     .    .**

**  
** John closed the door and felt grateful for the opportunity to be alone with Roger again, if not just to make him feel safe and not pressured to talk.

The two men got changed into dry, relaxing, stay-in clothes and then put music on before they sat across from each other on the bed, Roger now lighting a joint in the dim light of the room as the rain hit the windows outside.

“You _are_ going to tell Brian, right, Rog? I mean, what Tim did?”

Roger raised an eyebrow before he inhaled the smoke and held it into his lungs for a few moments before he slowly exhaled, handing it over to John. “I thought you already told him about it?”

John took the joint from him and repeated Roger’s actions but ended up coughing a little before passing it back. “No, I mean… I did, but he said he wants to hear it from you. He thinks I… misunderstood what you told me about the situation and… doesn’t want me to overreact.”

Roger was unsettlingly quiet before he held it between his thumb and index fingers, taking another puff from it. As he exhaled the smoke, it seemed to coat the room between the two of them. He set it down in the ashtray before he looked at John.

“You believe me, though. Right? About what he did?”

John nodded instantly. “Yes, of course I do. I didn’t know Tim but from what you told me about him, it seems like he was a pretty big -"

“Cunt,” Roger suddenly whispered. He felt questions looming inside of him, questions he had been holding in for so long but were afraid to ask. He bit his lip before speaking again. “John, do you think… what he did, _raped_ me, makes me….?”

Roger trailed off and John couldn’t figure out where he was going with the sentence and worse yet, the bassist was afraid to assume.

“Makes you what, Rog?” He asked gently, urging him to finish his thought.

The drummer shrugged and chuckled nervously before he shook his head. “No, forget it, mate. It’s… nothing. It’s nothing.”

“No,” John disagreed, shaking his head. “Please, tell me what you want to ask. I’m not going to laugh at you.”

Roger swallowed hard, quiet for a few minutes before he finally spoke. “Does what he did make me… gay?” He whispered the last word and felt glad that Freddie wasn’t in here right now but then again, maybe he should’ve been.

John looked at Roger, feeling his heart break for the man. “He attacked you, Roger,” John said softly. “What he did makes you a survivor. I haven’t known you long enough to say if you’re gay or not, and that might be a better question to ask Freddie, I might think.”

The drummer groaned and took another drag from the spliff before setting it down again, laying down on his back beside John. “I appreciate you saying those things, Deaky, but I want an opinion from _you_. I’m asking you right now, not Freddie and I don’t care if it’s… insensitive or whatever, but I just need _some_ kind of answer.”

John was hesitant to give his opinion on something that he wasn’t too entirely sure about himself yet. He anxiously started to play with a loose thread on Roger’s shirt before he cleared his throat.

“I really believe that you’re a survivor, Rog, I meant that. You weren’t… conscious to know what it felt like when Tim attacked you but that’s not how gay relationships would work, I’m pretty sure. Both partners would be fully conscious and fully consenting and… you weren’t either of those things at the time,” John spoke carefully.

“Right.”

John watched as the man casually placed a hand on John’s knee now and looked down at him. “Have you ever been with a guy, Roger?”

“Been with, like…”

“Slept with,” John clarified.

Roger shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Just women.”

The bassist nodded in understanding. “Do you ever feel any… attraction towards guys?”

Roger thought about it for a beat he opened his eyes again. “I mean, I feel like I can… appreciate them, like. I don’t know, John,” he let out another nervous chuckle again. “I mean, I think you and Brian are both attractive and I suppose Freddie is, now that I think about it properly.”

John smirked at the thought of Roger finding _him_ attractive. “Okay, let’s put it this a different way. Do you feel sexually aroused when you’re around any of us?”

Roger smirked and then shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t think so, no. At least not the way it is with women.”

John nodded. “All right, then. I’d say you’re not gay then, Roger, in my opinion. You can… experiment or whatever to find out for sure, but I’m at least 90% sure that you’re straight.”

The drummer appeared to relax a little now and nodded. “Right, okay. Thanks, John, and… sorry, by the way, about not wanting to fuck you, Deaky.”

John laughed softly and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Really. I… don’t want to fuck you either, Roger.”

“Cheers,” Roger chuckled, smiling.

The two men shared their company in a long, comfortable silence for about half an hour as the two of them shared the joint until it was eventually done and by that time, John was laying down as well, feeling sleepy.

“I really am sorry about telling him,” John spoke quietly, stretching his arms upwards.

Roger, who was laying away from John felt his arms nearby and then gently grabbed them with his own as he lifted them above his head as well. “I was angry about it before but I’m over it now. I just didn’t want Brian to know about it.”

“Ever?”

Roger shrugged. “I dunno, maybe.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” John realized. “Are you going to talk to Brian about it?”

Roger was quiet for several minutes, absentmindedly thumbing John’s bare forearms. “Probably, eventually. Knowing him he’ll guilt me into telling him about it and then I probably will. John, I’m so tired.”

“I know, I’m a bit sleepy too.”

Roger looked up at him. “No, I mean I’m _tired_ , you know? Right after it happened with Tim, I always thought it’d be better off to just… top myself, than ever tell Brian about it.”

John sighed heavily, unwilling to imagine a life without Roger. “I know how you feel, Roger. You know I do, but you can’t let your mind go there. It’s a dark spiral and it’ll just get worse and worse until…” he trailed off. “We’re all here for you but you need to let all the shit you’re holding onto out. You need to tell Brian about it.”

Roger groaned before he sat up now and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want to today.”

“I’m not saying you have to today. I’m just saying that you should tell him soon,” John also sat up, watching him. “Would it be easier for you to talk about it in front of all of us maybe?”

Roger shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it would, John.”

“Freddie and I can get him off your back for only so long, and then he’s going to want an explanation, and at that point, you’re not going to have much choice.”

Roger nodded and ran his hand through his hair before he stood up. “Right, yeah. I know. I just don’t want him to be like ‘well are you sure there might have been something you could have done to stop him?’” he imitated in his best Brian voice.

John searched his face. “I don’t think he’s going to ask you that. I think he’ll surprise you.”

The drummer shrugged now, as if that gesture ended the conversation. John let it drop, deciding he had nagged him enough about it and the rest was up to him. He was about to say something else when he suddenly saw the door open and saw Brian peek his head inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guitarist apologized sincerely. “Freddie’s itching to play Scrabble and wanted me to ask if you two would be up for a game or two.”

Roger looked at John who shrugged and nodded before he looked back at Brian and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great, come on out whenever you two are done. No rush.” Brian ducked his head back out and closed the door again.

Roger felt more relaxed at Brian’s demeanor and ran a hand through his hair before he looked at John. “Ready?”

The bassist nodded, not having anything else to say to him and then followed him out of the bedroom and into the living room, greeted by a board on the floor in the middle and four pillows lay around it. Freddie came bouncing in from the kitchen with a tray of tea mugs all filled to the brim and carefully set it down where they could all choose their preferred cup.

The boys did so and then used the pillows to prop themselves up, the rain outside being the only ambient sound in the room.

They were setting up their letters when Freddie leaned in towards John and sniffed him before he chuckled and gave a smirk. “Deaky! Have you been in Rog’s stash?”

“Yeah, he has,” Roger smirked back at him before he threw a pillow in his direction teasingly. “We shared one.”

Freddie gasped as his letters went flying off the stand but dove in front of his tea in time. “Christ on a cracker, Rog! Have you no respect for tea at _all_?”

John chuckled and saw that Roger and Brian were also trying hard not to laugh as well.

“Explain to me why we’re having tea and not beers while we play? It’d make the game a lot more interesting,” the drummer complained.

“Of course you think that, Rog,” Brian gave him a playful smirk. “I’ve starting to question if you even came out of the womb sober. The game’s just fine with tea.”

Freddie played a ten point word and wrote it down before he gathered his letters and glanced over at Roger.

“We’re not animals now, Rog. Drinks are for celebrating and night-outs, not rainy day Scrabble games with friends,” he chided teasingly before he reached over and mussed his hair up.

Roger chuckled and fixed his hair before laughing. “Oh, right. When I think of Scrabble, I definitely think of drinking tea.”

John smiled, enjoying the relaxed ambiance among all of them right now. He wished that things could stay this perfect forever.

They played one game, which Freddie won, and then a second game, which Brian won. To John’s surprise, Roger declared a rematch that he ended up winning. By this time, it was nearly dinnertime.

“What does everyone want, then?” Brian asked, looking around at everyone.

“Chinese!” Freddie exclaimed once he had finished cleaning up the board and taken the empty tea cups back into the kitchen.

“All right, one for Chinese. How about you Rog?”

“Fish and chips sound pretty good,” he shrugged as he sat up and grabbed his cigarettes and lit one before he sat back down in the pillow circle.

Brian chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Of course it does. All right. One Chinese, one fish and chips. John?”

The bassist was hesitant to answer but there was already a divide in agreement so he shrugged. “Whatever. I’m easy.”

“I bet you are, darling,” Freddie teased before John leaned over and playfully shoved him.

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose before he looked at Roger with soft eyes. “How about… we have fish and chips tomorrow, and tonight we get Chinese. Is that all right?”

The drummer looked at him and instinctively felt the urge to argue against it but nodded instead. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Freddie and John both looked at each other in shock. Brian looked like he was about to question it but then decided not to, instead choosing to grab the van keys and jacket and run out.  

“What are you playing at, Rog?” Freddie asked curiously, a smirk on his face.

Roger shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling. “I don’t know. I just… don’t want him angry at me anymore?”

The statement made John’s chest ache and he swallowed hard, glancing over at Freddie whose smirk had fallen and sympathy had touched his eyes now.

“Oh, darling. Brian’s not upset with you. He’s simply worried, and… I don’t know what this is even about, but I suggest that you stop being a moody prat and talk to him about it before it destroys your relationship, and this band,” Freddie advised, standing up and walking out to the kitchen to get drinks.

Roger shook his head, taking another drag and blowing the smoke out through his nose. He became quiet now and looked at John. “Don’t even start, you.”

John involuntarily let out a sharp laugh. “What? _Me?_ I already said my peace, Roger. I’m not about to say anything else.”

“Good, because I definitely don’t want to hear it. It’s bad enough living with my mum again!” He replied, pointing at Freddie who was getting the plates out.

Freddie placed the plates on the counter before he turned to look at Roger. “If I were your mother, Rog, I would’ve spanked you a long time ago, and I don’t even mean it the way it sounds!”

John laughed and Roger rolled his eyes but he had a smirk on his face.

The singer brought four beers around but didn’t pop open Brian’s bottle yet. “Would these drinks suffice, Rog? I failed to find any hard liquor.”

“Yessss,” Roger sat upright and instantly took a long drink of his before he took one last drag of the cigarette and then put it out in a nearby ashtray.

They talked until Brian finally got home with the food and things seemed a bit more relaxed, each of them having downed about two beers by the time they had finished eating, save for Roger who had drank about four.

“None of his would’ve been possible without our best drummer agreeing so easily to this meal,” Brian gave a wink to Roger.

The blonde rubbed his eyes, the alcohol making him sleepy before he pushed himself up off the floor, groaning as he did so and stretched. “Well, as lovely as this night has been, I’m about to shove off to bed now.”

Brian’s smirk faded and he looked tense, like he had wanted to say something. “Night, Rog.”

“Night, Bri,” he grabbed his bottle that still had a little bit left in it and started towards the bedroom.

John looked at Brian who was still looking tense, like he was fighting himself from going after Roger. He had to remind himself that they would have to work this out between the two of them and he could only be there to listen to the drummer when he needed him. He finished his own beer and then joined Roger in his room to sleep.

 

**……….. … …… … ……… .. ……….**

_“I’m done with your fucking holier-than-thou attitude, Roger… I’m fucking done with it.”_

_“Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Bass me to death?”_

_Tim loomed over him, a dark look in his eye that Roger hadn’t ever seen before. He stumbled backwards as the singer stormed towards him. “You need to learn a lesson, and it’s that I’m in charge of this band, and you stop fucking second questioning me at every turn.”_

_Before Roger could say anything else, he felt Tim grab him by the shirt and throw him on the bed on his stomach, confusion and fear coursing through him now. He started to punch at where he thought Tim was, but he kept missing, and then he felt a strong body against him, pushing him down into the bed as he started to pull down Roger’s pants with quick hands._

_“What the fuck?! Get off! Get off of me!” Roger heard himself yelling, still trying to struggle furiously._

_Tim pushed Roger’s legs back down, scratching his skin. “Sorry, mate. You need this. I’m in charge, not you, you fucking piece of shit! You’re nothing. You’re worse than nothing!” He grabbed his head and then…_

_Nothing._

Roger gasped as he woke up suddenly, sweat beading his body as he felt panic fill him throughout. He looked around the room frantically and relaxed when he only saw John beside him. He ran his shaky hands through his damp hair and cursed to himself when he realized he had left his cigarettes out in the living room.

Maybe John was right; maybe the nightmares and anxiety and all this shit he was feeling would go away if he told Brian about it. He tried to focus on breathing as he tried to quietly tiptoe to Brian’s room, unable to stop himself from gasping. He slipped inside and crawled into the bed beside the guitarist, trying to hold himself together as he lay down on his side.

Not a minute later, though, he felt gentle hands guide him back up to sit upright and a light click on. “Name some movies you like, Rog,” his voice was calm, soft.

Roger closed his eyes, trying to think of movies he could name off but all he could think about was the heavy panic sitting hard on his chest, collapsing his lungs inside his ribcage. He gasped again, shaking his head.

Brian sat down in front of him and he felt Brian’s cool hands on his hot face. “Roger, listen to me, mate. Just listen to my voice, yeah? It’s going to be okay. This is going to pass and you’ll be all right. You need to start the breathing exercises again, though in the meantime. Let’s do a couple together. Ready?”

Roger nodded and then watched as his friend showed him what he was meant to do, and imitated him, his breathing shaky and unsteady as he felt dizzy. He felt unwelcome tears running down his face but continued to try breathing again, along with Brian.

“Are you feeling a bit better or do you need to a couple more?” Brian looked at Roger who looked at him helplessly, unable to answer him yet. “Okay, let’s just do a couple more… ready?”

The drummer did two more breathing exercises along with him and started to feel air make its way into his lungs. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Good, Rog. Keep breathing… you don’t have to do it loud now, but start naming movies, okay? I’ll be right back with something to help cool you off.” Brian waited for a nod of acknowledgement from Roger before he left the room to get a cold washcloth.

Roger’s mind was slowly starting to clear. “A-A clockw-work O-Orange… L-Live and Let D-Die… B-Bedknobs and B-Broomsticks… M-Monty Python and… T-The Holy G-Grail…”

Before he could continue, Brian made it back inside and instantly placed the washcloth on the back of Roger’s neck before he took it and lifted his head up, dabbing at his face, giving him a reassuring smile.

“S-Sorry… I-I don’t… don’t even know w-what time it is…”

Brian glanced at the clock. “It’s about half four in the morning, but don’t worry about that. Just focus on breathing, okay, mate? I’m right here. You’re… you’re safe, Rog.”

The drummer let out a small scoff of disbelief before he rubbed his eyes that were starting to fill up with tears again, daring himself to look back at Brian. He took several minutes to himself as he just focused on breathing until he felt his lungs fully inflate again and he could talk again.

He took the washcloth and wiped his face and his neck again before he looked back at Brian. “I… I want to talk about it, Brian… what h-happened. I mean, if you still want to hear it.”

Brian straightened up now and gave him his full attention. “Of course I do. Whenever you’re ready. Take your time, mate.”

Roger nodded, taking a deep breath as he rubbed his palms on his thighs, trying to force himself to relax. “I d-don’t… even know where to start, Bri.”

The guitarist moved closer to him. “Just start wherever you feel most comfortable starting, Rog. There isn’t a right or wrong place. I’m not going to judge or anything. I’m here for you… and I care about you more than anything. I just… want you to know that.”

Roger felt his heart swell within his chest and nodded. “Cheers, Bri. I… feel that way as well, yeah?” He saw Brian give him an encouraging smile and nodded. “All right, umm… I don’t know. I suppose that Tim had been with us for about a couple months and he had it with me. We sort of… got into a row, and he kept saying all this shite how he had to umm… he had to teach me a lesson, or whatever. So… he shoved me down on the bed and…” Roger took another deep breath and looked down at his hands. “F-Fuck.”

The man looked down at his hands on his thighs, rubbing them harder as he closed his eyes.

Brian watched him patiently. “Do you want your cigarettes? Would that help maybe?”

Roger was surprised at the offer and searched his face. “Please?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He disappeared from the room, coming back a couple minutes later and handed them and his lighter to Roger before he sat down again, making sure he shut the door behind him.

The drummer took one out and placed it between his lips, lighting it. He took a couple minutes to just smoke, collecting his thoughts and making sure he wasn’t going to burst out crying. He took a long drag before he looked back at Brian who was still watching him intently.

“He pushed me down on the bed, and… he started undoing my belt and he pulled my pants down. I was panicking and didn’t know what was going on. I tried to hit him, get him off of me but he was too strong. He pushed me down onto the bed but I was still trying to struggle against him. Umm… right, so… I felt Tim grab my head, and… then I was out cold.”

He waited for Brian’s skeptical looks or sounds of disbelief but neither ever came, much to Roger’s relief. Brian nodded as he listened, leaning forward.

“What happened then, Rog?”

Roger took another drag of his cigarette before he put the now finished cigarette out in an ashtray nearby. “Uhh I woke up, and I had a splitting headache, and I felt dizzy and… and I felt sore. _Really_ sore. I tried to move but I nearly passed out from the pain.”

“What happened between you and Tim after that?” Brian was looking like he was the one about to cry but knowing his academic friend, he was most likely trying to figure out all of this logically.

Roger shrugged. “I sure as hell didn’t want him to do it again so I kinda backed off of him, stopping arguing, picking fights with him. I told you that I wanted him out of the band, you didn’t take me seriously, and then… he quit, and then we got John.”

Brian half sighed, half whimpered before he put his face in his hands now before he ran them through his hair, leaning back to look at him. He actually was crying now.

Roger looked at him in shock, never having seen him cry before until now. He wasn’t liking it all; it made him uneasy to see his friend so vulnerable and broken suddenly.

He sniffed and wiped his face before he swallowed hard. “I’m… s-so fucking sorry, R-Roger… I’m sorry I didn’t t-take you seriously, and I know it’s too late but I'm here for you now. I just… thought you were clashing with him the way y-you clash with everyone else who gets on your nerves. I never thought –" Brian took a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together and calm down a little and when he finally did, he looked angry.

Roger watched him before he bit his lip anxiously. “I’m sorry, Bri,” he apologized, unsure what else to say.

Brian shook his head and looked at him. “This isn’t your fault, Roger. You have nothing to apologize for. You know that, right?”

The drummer shook his head, looking back down at his hands.

Brian leaned forward again and gently placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Look at me, Rog,” he urged softly, not continuing until the blonde met his eyes. “This, was not your fault. He was off his head. He did this on his own and he did it because he was a fucking monster. You can be a stubborn person at times, but nothing warrants rape. That’s inexcusable. This does explain a lot though… and I think I understand a little bit more now.”

Roger’s anger. The drinking, smoking excessively, fighting. The depression and severe anxiety, the panic attacks.

The other man nodded in agreement and the two of them were both quiet for a few minutes until Brian spoke again.

“Is there… anything else you want to tell me about what happened or anything else?” He asked gently, wiping his eyes one more time.

Roger shook his head, feeling exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically.

“All right. Roger, I know you didn’t want to talk about what happened, but I’m glad you did, and I don’t think any less of you. Now, with that, let’s see if we can get a couple more hours of sleep, yeah?”

Roger rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Can I sleep here?”

“Yeah, of course you can, Rog,” Brian stood up and climbed into the other side of the bed before he wrapped the comforter around the smaller man as soon as he got under the covers and wrapped a protective arm around him before he quickly fell to sleep.

Roger held onto him as he closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.


	13. spread your wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG thank you all for all your comments! I get so excited when I see a new comment was posted haha. You all are amazing Queen people and I love you alllll. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

**.    .    .**

 

When Roger woke up again, the sun was peeking through the window and he could still feel Brian’s arm around his body. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath before he untangled himself from the guitarist and sat upright.

“Mm, you all right?”

Roger glanced over at him and saw his eyes were now looking at him. “Yeah, sorry to wake you. I couldn’t sleep anymore.”

“No,” Brian said softly, also sitting up now before he stretched. “It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. What time is it?”

Roger glanced over at the clock on the table as he lit a cigarette and took a drag from it. “Half seven.”

“Oh, Freddie’ll be asking about breakfast soon, I imagine. We better get up, yeah?”

Roger nodded and stood up, walking out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, surprised to see Freddie and John both awake and already sitting at the table drinking coffee.  He walked over and poured two cups for him and Brian and joined everyone else at the table, placing the one cup in front of the taller man.

“Cheers.”

Roger took a drag off his cigarette and looked over at Freddie. “What are you doing up so early? Finally thought you’d join us for breakfast?”

Freddie rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Says the man who’s usually never up before seven. Anyway, are you all right, darling? You were pretty upset yesterday.”

Roger nodded and took another drag before he flicked the ash into the ashtray. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “Thanks, Fred. I’m okay, though.”

The singer smiled. “That’s wonderful to hear, Rog.”

“It is,” Brian agreed, gently patting Roger’s arm. “Now if only we can get him to cut down on those cancer sticks and he might live longer.”

“No way, Bri. I refuse to live past thirty. Sorry, but that’s all there is to it, I’m afraid. It’s already settled.”

Brian sighed, shaking his head and saw Freddie reach over and messed up Roger’s hair. “Let’s hope that isn’t true, Rog. We rather enjoy having you around, even if just for our own amusement.”

“Oh, very funny, Freddie. If not for us, you’d still be working at Heathrow, just remember that,” Roger teased, smirking.

John and Brian both chuckled as they sipped their coffee.

Freddie sighed and playfully narrowed his eyes at the drummer. “Oh, Rog… I was just lucky that your asshole singer quit, darling.”

John saw Roger tense a little bit and spoke. “Not much has changed. We still have a complete arsehole for a singer.”

This made everyone laugh now, diffusing any tension that might’ve been between them. Freddie rolled up his napkin and threw it at Roger. “Good thing it pairs well with an arsehole drummer then, doesn’t it, dear?”

Roger chuckled, taking another drag.

The men sipped their coffee and sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Brian spoke.

“What are we doing today? I’m bored stiff.”

“Same,” John agreed.

“Well,” Freddie started, a mischievous look in his eye. “We could –"

“No.” Brian said instantly.

“I’m sorry?” Freddie turned to look at him.

“Whatever you want to do _will not_ be the same thing any of us want to do, Fred,” Brian shrugged. “No offence, but… it’s just the truth.”

Freddie smirked before he looked at the others. “Let’s put it to a vote.”

“Why bother?”

The singer was looking pretty cocky now. He leaned over the table. “Because I think it would be fun if the four of us went,” he looked from Roger to John now. “Don’t think of it as… a _gay bar_. Think of it as a bar, with lots of other friendly chaps around and pints. You three can stay at a table or the bar area while I go off and have loads of fun without you. Now, who’s in?”

Brian shook his head before taking a drink of his coffee. Freddie looked at John next who smiled to himself.

Maybe he could figure himself out in this gay bar. Maybe he could figure out what or who he liked. He wasn’t completely sure how this would go exactly but there was an odd part of him that felt excited about the idea of going. He glanced over at Roger who was chuckling as he smoked, seeing John’s face.

“Sure, Fred,” the bassist nodded. “I’m in.”

Brian raised his eyebrows in surprise now and looked over at John as well, who just shrugged.

“Excellent! Rog, darling… what do you say?”

Brian and Roger both looked at each other now, a look of disbelief on the guitarist’s face as he looked at his friend. “You’ve been there before, remember? You didn’t like it, as I recall.”

Roger took another drag before he shrugged. “Well, sure, but that was before when I wasn’t in the right state of mind, wasn’t it? I might have more fun this time around.”

Brian groaned now and shook his head before he looked over at Freddie who had a huge shit-eating grin on his face now and was just about bouncing in his seat. “Well, it’s still tied, two for, two against.”

“Well, everyone knows that the singer’s vote counts double so it’s technically not tied, Brian,” he took another sip of coffee.

Roger and John both let out a low chuckle but Brian didn’t look too amused.

“Okay, fine. You three can go, have a grand old time, and I shall stay here, have a few pints, and study.”

Freddie shook his head. “Nope. Sorry, darling, but you must come with us. You’re another huge part of this band and our best friend, so… you’re coming with us. It’s already settled.”

Brian threw his arms up but there was a glint in his eye that told the others that he was actually enjoying this banter. “Why does it seem like I don’t have a choice?”

“Because you don’t, Bri. So that’s it, then. What shall we do to kill time before we go out?”

The boys took a beat to smoke and sip and think before Brian shrugged, already resigned to the fact that he would be going to later with them to The Yard.

“We need groceries. We’re out of milk, eggs, bread, and tea.”

Freddie clapped his hands together and stood up. “Excellent. Let me go get changed, then.”

Brian sighed before he chuckled. He knew he had to laugh or else he’d just get angry. It was a lot less energy to laugh it off. He looked over at Roger and John. “I’m guessing you two would like to tag along as well?”

Roger remembered the last time he had gone to the store with Freddie and Brian and shook his head, finishing off his cigarette before he put it out. “Sounds great, but I’d rather stay here.”

“Good, no need to get things we don’t actually need, then. John? Would you like to come?”

The bassist smiled politely before he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll stay here with Rog. No sense in all of us going to the store for a few things. I’m sure Roger and I can keep ourselves occupied. You’ll have your hands full with Freddie anyway.”

Brian gave him an almost sad smile but nodded. “You wouldn’t be a problem if you came along, but you’re right; I definitely will have my hands full with him. Well, have fun you two. Don’t get into too much trouble, yeah?”

He finished his coffee and set his cup in the sink before he headed for his room to get ready.

“You could’ve gone, if you wanted, Deaky,” Roger offered softly, eyeing him carefully. “You don’t have to stay here because of me or anything.”

“I know,” John nodded, smiling. “I wanted to stay here, though, with you. Was there anywhere else you wanted to go? We could still do something together while they’re gone.”

Roger shrugged as he finished his coffee and grabbed John’s cup to refill it along with his. He sat back down and looked at him. “Hmm… I don’t know. Oh shit, I need to go take an exam! I completely fucking forgot about it!” He started drinking his coffee quickly.

John did the same now. “Can… I come with?”

The question took Roger back but he shrugged, smirking as he stood up. “Sure, Deaky, if you want. Warning you now, though… you’re going to be bored out of your mind waiting for me. Shouldn’t be too long, though.”

John shrugged. “It’s fine. I want to come with. I don’t mind waiting for you.”

The two of them went to their room to get changed and saw Freddie and Brian about to leave as well. Brian stopped and looked at them in confusion.

“Wait, I thought you weren’t coming with?”

Roger slung his bag over his shoulder and shook his head. “We’re not. I forgot I have an exam and John’s keeping me company.”

Brian sighed and shook his head at Roger’s forgetfulness. “Do you want a ride? We can drop you off before we go to the store.”

“No, go, Brian. It’s completely out of the way. We’ll take a cab.”

The guitarist gave an unsure look but nodded. “All right, fine. We’ll see you later, then. Good luck, Rog.”

“Yes, darling, good luck with your exam,” Freddie smiled.

Roger smiled back at the two of them and nodded. “Cheers. See you later.” He waited until the two bandmates left before he hailed a cab and started towards the university with John.

“Nervous?”

Roger took a deep breath and nodded. “Y-Yeah, actually. A bit, now that you mention it. It’s the final exam of the semester.”

John leaned against him and gently bumped him. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine, mate.”

The drummer chuckled. “Thanks, Deaky. I hope so. I didn’t really study much for this one. It’s been so chaotic lately.”

The two rode to the college and John walked inside with Roger until he reached his class and he said goodbye for now before slipping inside. The bassist felt nervous on the blonde’s behalf but hung out in the library for a couple hours before he made his way back to the classroom, but didn’t see his friend.

John started feeling anxious about half an hour later when Roger finally walked out of the room, looking more uneasy than him. He didn’t say anything until the two of them hailed a cab and got inside to head back home.

Roger lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “I… most definitely flunked that exam, Deaky…”

He shook his head. “We’ll see. I don’t think you did, Rog. You wouldn’t have made it this far into your program if you just failed every exam. You must know _something._ ”

Roger shrugged but eventually relaxed, gently bumping against John’s shoulder. When they arrived home, the two got out and walked inside to see Freddie and Brian both setting up the instruments.

Roger groaned. “Noooo, come on! My brain is fried, Brian! I don’t want to practice _now_ …”

“Too bad. We haven’t practiced in a little over three weeks, and only once with John.  Get behind your drum kit, Roger.”

Roger groaned again before he put his bag down and finally did sit down at his drums, John moving over to where his bass was set up.

“The neighbors must love you,” John chuckled, glancing over at Brian.

The guitarist gave a smirk. “The landlord’s complained before but no one else seems to. I think we got lucky having lax neighbors who like rock music.”

Freddie took the mic out of its stand and looked at his friends. “So… I think we should do ‘Keep Yourself Alive’ first again, and go into ‘Seven Seas of Rye’, ‘Son & Daughter’, ‘Liar’, and then we’ll finish with ‘The Night Comes Down’. Does that sound good with everyone?”

Everyone nodded and hummed in agreement.

“Marvelous, darlings. Brian?” He cued before the other man started to play his intro.

The band practiced for about an hour and felt satisfied when they had finished, most of them covered in sweat from playing so hard. They took turns showering and got changed into their going out clothes. They piled into a cab and head towards The Yard, John’s heart pounding rapidly in his chest as they got closer and closer.

He didn’t know what to expect, or how to act. _Should he pretend to be gay or would that be worse? Of course, if he actually was gay, then he wouldn't have to pretend at all._

Roger must have seen the conflict on his face because he leaned over to him in the back and placed a hand on his knee. “You okay, Deaky? You look pensive.”

Freddie snorted now, shaking his head.

“What?” Roger demanded, looking over at the singer.

Freddie looked amusedly at the drummer but Brian answered for him. “Pensive? Do you even know what that means, Rog?”

“Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Thoughtful, deep in thought, you know?”

“You only know that word because of Scrabble, darling…”

Brian and Freddie both chuckled but Roger looked back over at John who had a small smirk on his face. “I’m fine, Rog, thank you. I’ve… just never been to a… a gay club before, that’s all.”

“I’ve only been to one because of Rog running blindly into it, not knowing it was a gay club,” Brian retorted.

Roger rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Bri. Can you let that go already, please?” He turned his attention back to John again. “No worries, mate. We can stick together, if you like?” He brought his voice down now as Freddie started talking to Brian in the front seats.

“I mean, if you feel uncomfortable or something, I’ll pretend that… we’re together, yeah?”

John wasn’t sure exactly Roger meant by that, but he was curious to find out now. He just nodded, chuckling to himself. “Sure, all right, then.”

“Brilliant.”

The four men parked and headed inside where the music was loud, the air was thick with all kinds of smoke, and the smell of sweat was almost acidic throughout. They headed for the bar where Freddie ordered them all pints and then found a table where they could hang out.

“Isn’t this fun, lovelies?” Freddie shouted to be heard over the music.

Brian waved away smoke just as Roger decided to light up himself. “Oh yes, this is brilliant, Freddie. Thanks again for deciding to drag us here.”

“We voted, Brian! It was fair as fair could be!” the singer insisted as he sipped his beer.

Brian gave him a playful look of disbelief. “Oh yeah, it was fair. Your vote counted twice, but sure! It was totally fair!”

Roger and John both laughed as they enjoyed each other’s’ company, drinking their beers slowly during the first hour and a half. As the night wore on, they started drinking a little faster, enjoying the atmosphere and excitement of the club, their touching becoming a little more intimate, but only a little as they both became drunker and braver.

Freddie had gone off on his own to dance and flirt, while Brian became the adult of the group as he stopped drinking after his second beer since he was driving them all home later. He had a nice buzz going but figured he’d easily be sober again by the time they all wanted to leave.

“I’m going to go find the loo,” John announced to Roger who nodded in acknowledgement.

The bassist started to politely push his way through the crowd and had only gone a little ways when he saw a tall, brutish figure suddenly step in front of him. He looked John up and down with an uncomfortable smirk.

“You look like you’d be fun. What’s your name?”

John swallowed hard, taking a step back but felt his heart race as the man made sure there wasn’t any space between them. “Um… J-John.”

“I know somewhere nice and dark where we can go. Would you like to come with me?” The stranger asked with full innuendo implied.

John tried to look as polite as possible as he shook his head. “Erm, no, thank you. I’m actually just trying to find the toilets.”

He attempted to side step the man, who he realized never actually gave him _his_ name, but he met his step and blocked him again. “Oh come on, John! I can make you forget about that bloke you’re with, if you’re having a bad date.”

John felt the anxiety building up quickly, feeling it balloon into panic as his stomach twisted. He suddenly felt the man grab his hand and start pulling him away. The bassist pulled back, trying to get away from him.

“Stop!”

Suddenly he saw Roger appear between them, pulling them apart and put himself so he was standing in front of John protectively.

“Oi what the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you deaf, mate? He said to stop!”

The brutish man puffed his chest out and eyed him. “I was just giving him options, blondie. That’s all.”

Roger shoved the man who put his arms up in surrender, obviously not wanting any trouble. He looked dangerously at him, still standing in front of John. The man eventually walked off and Roger turned to look at him, his face softening now.

“You all right, Deaky? Sorry I didn’t see him sooner.”

John felt overwhelmed by Roger’s protectiveness as it warmed his heart and he nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Yeah, thank you, Rog.”

“Of course. Here, we can walk together to the toilets. I have to go too anyway.”

John nodded, feeling appreciative to have someone with him now. They headed for the loo and did their business before Roger walked them both back over to the table where Brian was.

The guitarist automatically read their tense body language and straightened up. “What happened?”

Roger shook his head in frustration before he took a drink of his beer. “Some fucking tosser started giving John a hard time and didn’t let up until I came over.”

Brian looked worriedly at John. “You okay, John?”

The bassist nodded. “Yeah, fine, thanks.” He took a long drink of his beer, wanting to just forget about the incident already.

Roger lit another cigarette and seemed to relax again, diffusing the tension at the table. “Fred must be having a good time,” he looked at Brian. “You look like you got stood up by a date and she left you to pay the bill. Why are you wasting your time being mopey?”

“I’m not… moping, Rog. This just isn’t my scene, and you all know it,” he sighed, looking like he wished he could drink some more.

“Lighten up some, yeah?”

Brian looked over at John, seeing the guilty look on his face. He leaned over the table to him now. “Hey, don’t feel bad about outvoting me in coming here. The two of them do this shit to me all the time. It’s really fine. I’m not as bored as I look, John, I promise.”

The bassist chuckled before nodding. “All right, good. I’m glad.”

Brian laughed softly and then leaned into Roger before whispering something in his ear, to which the drummer nodded and then John watched Brian walk off.

“Where’s he going?”

Roger exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke away from John. “Loo.”

John nodded now and finished his beer before he looked over and saw that Roger had finished his as well. He looked over to his friend. “Hey, do you want another?”

“Oh, sure. Stay here, Deaky, I can get them for us…”

John shook his head and smiled. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get them and be back. Okay?”

Roger looked hesitant but smiled back and gave a nod. “Sure thing. Cheers, mate.”

John wasn’t sure if it was the excess of alcohol or just the general atmosphere of the club but he felt brave again, and excited. Maybe it was all the bodies everywhere moving to the beat of the music as lots of men grinded against each other, or made out in the dark corners of the club. He didn’t want to let one incident stop him from figuring out who he was.

He moved over to the bar and waited patiently to be served before he noticed another man sitting there drinking. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive he found him, feeling his palms start to get wet.

“Excuse me,” the male spoke, his voice softer than John had imagined it would be. “I’ve come here a lot and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before.” His voice had an Irish lilt to it.

John felt butterflies in his stomach suddenly and cleared his throat to try to ignore the dryness. He moved closer to the man so he could hear him before and smiled weakly, feeling nervous. “Umm… this is my first time, coming to a place like… this.”

The man’s eyes were warm and inviting. He smiled before he held out a hand. “I’m Finn. What might your name be, then?”

John couldn’t help but smile as he talked. “John, but my friends call me Deaky.”

“Aye, well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Deaky. So… this is a lot for you to take in? I’ll be honest,  I was overwhelmed when I first came here as well,” Finn chuckled.

The bassist bit his lip to stop himself from stupidly grinning. He was about to open his mouth to speak when he saw Roger slip suddenly in between them. “Oi, you’ve been over here forever, Deaky! Have you even gotten our order in yet?”

John knew that the drummer had done this on purpose, just in case this man had been as bad as the first. He cleared his throat loudly though as he tried to nonverbally tell Roger to kindly fuck off.

The blonde looked at him now with a sly smile now as he walked out from in between them now, winking at John as he got the hint. He looked at Finn.

“My apologies, mate. I’m just looking out for a friend, is all,” Roger gave a friendly smile to Finn who chuckled and smiled back.

“No harm, no foul.”

“Cheers,” Roger nodded as looked at John. “I’ll just get my beer then and I’ll buy you one later.”

John nodded and waited until Roger walked around to the other side of the bar to order his drink before chuckled nervously, looking at Finn. “Sorry. He’s protective of me.”

Finn laughed but it seemed to be easy and carefree. “Yeah, no problem. I understand that. I’m usually the protective ones of my friends as well. So… can I buy you a drink then, John?”

The bassist felt his heart beating faster. “Y-Yes, please. That’d be great.”

Finn smiled and ordered him a drink before the two of them started talking and get to know each other better. John was amazed at how comfortable he felt talking with this man, soon laughing about friends and family, and how drunk he was. He remembered to get Finn’s number though before Brian came over with a tired looking Roger.

Brian placed a gentle hand on John’s back. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to head home. Are you coming or…” he glanced over at Finn with just his eyes before looking back at John with a smile. “Do you have other plans?”

John looked over at Finn who looked like he was sorry to see the night be ended too early.

Finn looked at John’s friends before looking at the bassist. “It’s up to you, John. I was just going to ask if you’d like to come over to my place for one more but it’s completely your choice.”

John thought for a minute. If he was going to do this, then he was going to do this properly. He looked over at Brian. “I think I’ll head over to Finn’s. I’ll see you tomorrow though?”

Roger grinned huge and Brian gave an easygoing chuckle before he nodded. “All right, see you tomorrow, Deaky. Have fun, kids.”

Roger had to hold back his excitement as he leaned against Brian on their way out of the club. “Everyone’s getting lucky except for me, Bri,” he whined. “Unbelievable!”

Brian laughed as he helped Roger into the passenger seat before getting in the driver’s seat and started back towards the flat. “I’d say you’re lucky that the guy who harassed John earlier didn’t pound your face in, Rog.”

“Are you kidding?” He looked over at him. “I was ready to fight him and he was the one who backed off! He’s lucky I didn’t pound _his_ face in, I think.”

Brian chuckled and rolled his eyes, letting the music fill the van. When they both got home, he helped Roger get into his pajamas and got into his own before the two men collapsed into bed and cuddled up together.

“Where’s Freddie…?” Roger asked distantly.

Brian sighed tiredly. “He told me he was going home with someone else but he’d be home by the time we wake up tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” Roger felt too tired to say anything else and quickly succumbed to the alcohol, letting himself fall asleep, his arm around Brian and Brian’s arm around him.


	14. God save the Queen

**.   .    .**

John had felt his pulse quicken as soon as Finn had taken him to his flat for another drink. He was new to all of this and wasn’t so sure how to act or what to do. He was as inexperienced as they came, but Finn was nothing but assuring.

“I felt too nervous back at that club to tell you earlier, but… you really are an attractive person, Deaky.”

The bassist smiled brightly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “I-I think you are too, attractive, I mean. Sorry, I just… t-this is all… new to me.”

Finn chuckled goodheartedly and sipped his small tumbler of whiskey before he moved over to John. He set his drink down on the table close by and then looked down at the younger man. “No worries. Just let me know if you start to feel uncomfortable or you want to stop. I don’t want to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

John nodded and felt a bit calmer even though his heart was hammering in his chest. He didn’t know what to touch first so he settled on Finn’s waist, letting his hands rest there timidly but felt a bit silly. His breath hitched as he felt the other man move closer to him and felt his hands on his cheeks, gently thumbing his skin.

“You’re very handsome, John. If it’s all right with you, we can move this into the bedroom?” he asked, a smirk appearing on his face.

John nodded quickly before he even registered what was going on. He let the Celtic lead him into his room and watched as the man started to undress eagerly. The bassist watched him in the dim light of the room, the shadows playing tricks on his eyes. He swallowed hard, moving closer and then felt himself undressing as well.

Before he knew it, they were both bare and making out with each other, John’s lust suddenly surging like he never knew before, his hands caressing Finn’s skin tenderly, wanting to feel every part of him out of fear of never seeing this man again. He felt nervous though, feeling Finn’s erection against his own before feeling lips on his skin.

“I-I’ve never…” John trailed off, breathing shakily in anticipation and nervousness. “I haven’t ever…”

Finn pressed his lips on John’s to stop him from talking and searched his face patiently. “It’s fine, John… really. I’ll help you. The first time might be… a little surprising but… let yourself feel whatever it is you’re feeling and let yourself enjoy it, okay?”

John nodded, smiling softly. “O-Okay.”

Finn smiled back, his eyes full of something that John hoped was something like love, but might have just have been lust. “Turn around, Deaky.”

The bassist obeyed and quickly turned around against the bedframe and it wasn’t long before he felt something inside of him. Obviously he _knew_ what that something was, of course, but it was indeed surprising. It hurt as Finn pushed inside of him, his body expanding to accept the foreign object, but then soon the pain disappeared and John felt pleasure from the pressure.

He gasped and moaned, Finn’s hands on his waist as he started to fuck him slowly. He heard Finn’s gasps and moans as well in the darkness. John smiled to himself as he felt Finn’s kisses again on his neck, pushing back against him as well.

“Fuck… oh god, John…” he groaned, kissing down John’s spine. “Are you okay?”

The bassist nodded but then thought that might be dumb of him. “Y-Yes… d-definitely okay. Don’t stop, please…”

He felt Finn move a bit faster inside of him now and soon felt sweat glistening on both their bodies, pleasure building up inside of him. “Ohh, oh god… F-Finn…”

“Let yourself feel it, love,” he heard Finn purr in his ear.

Not two seconds after he said that, John suddenly felt his body explode with unexplainable and pure ecstasy throughout his entire body. He wrapped an arm around Finn tightly, yelling and moaning loudly as he felt Finn’s arms around him, hearing him yell out in pleasure too.

“Fuck! Oh god!”

John laughed in desire and delight as the two of them starting to come back down from their natural highs together, only now just realizing the mess John had made on the bed with his desire.

“S-Shit… I’m so sorry… I couldn’t...”

Finn slipped out of him and chuckled to himself before he took the blanket off the bed. “Don’t worry about it, Deaky. I’m just glad you had a good time.”

John chuckled at his easygoingness attitude. He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I did. Thank you, by the way. I really did, though.”

Finn grinned and walked over to John before he gently grabbed his face and kissed him passionately before he let him go. “Shower?”

John was nervous at the idea of having a shower with Finn at first, until he realized how silly _that_ was after what they had just done together and nodded.

Once the two had showered, they climbed into bed together and John rested his head on Finn’s chest, soon feeling his arms around him. He relaxed again, and let himself drift off to sleep, knowing now exactly who he was and what he was.

 

**……… … ……… …. ……….. …. ………… …**

When John woke up the next morning, he rubbed his eyes tiredly smiled as he remembered the night before. He looked over but didn’t see Finn beside him, which made him nervous.

Was this just a one-night stand? What was he supposed to do in this case? Was he supposed to put his clothes on and sneak out without a word to his host?

He stood up and got dressed in his clothes from the night before and slowly walked out, looking around for Finn when he saw him appear off the kitchen, a warm smile on his face.

“Mornin’, Deaky. How’d you sleep?”

John relaxed and nodded, smiling back, walking into the kitchen. “Good, thanks. And you?”

“Yeah, good. Great, actually,” he chuckled, pouring a cup of coffee for John before placing it in front of him at the counter. “I think we should talk about last night, if… that’s okay with you?”

The bassist tensed up as he took his cup and took a sip from it. _Shit, what did he do wrong? Was he about to hear a critical list of everything he could have done better?_ He nodded hesitantly.

“Great. So… was it actually good for you, John? You can tell me honestly how it felt. This being your first time and all, talk to me about it. Was it… your cup of tea, do you think or… not really?”

John was surprised. He didn’t think he’d be having this conversation with anyone else about a one-night stand. Maybe Finn just cared that much about it?

John nodded enthusiastically.  “No, I mean, yeah. Yes, it’s… definitely for me, I’d say. I’ve had sex with… umm… women too, but… it never felt that… that good. I mean, of course it felt, nice but…” He knew he was rambling now and cleared his throat. “It was great, Finn. Really… thank you again.”

Finn smiled and nodded. “Good, I’m really glad that you can be honest about it with me. I mean, I care about you, John. I… think I really care about you, actually. You know?”

John looked up and searched Finn’s eyes in surprise. “Really?” He wasn’t really sure what that meant, but by the pounding of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach, he hoped it meant what he wanted it to.

“Yeah, from the first time I saw you last night, I had this feeling I hadn’t felt with anyone before. I’m probably getting ahead of myself though,” he laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. Umm… what do you want out of this, John? I mean, did you just want sex or… what are you thinking?”

The bassist couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He took another drink of coffee. “I felt the same way about you too, Finn. The sex was… amazing… but… I personally was hoping for… something more, maybe? More than just sex.”

The other man suddenly jumped over to him and kissed his lips again. “Aye, I’m very glad to hear that, John. You have no idea how happy this makes me. So… just to… clarify, you want a relationship…?”

John nodded. “A relationship, yes.”

Finn nodded as well and smiled brightly. “Good, great. So… it’s official then. I’m really glad, John.”

“Me too,” the bassist nodded in agreement, grinning. “Can... we meet up later? I promised my friends I’d be home in a while.”

“Yeah, of course. Did you want to go back to the club together? Or… stay in?”

“I’m not sure yet,” John smiled. “I’ll call you when I know, yeah?”

Finn nodded, going back to his coffee. “Good, then. I await your call, John. I don’t even know your last name by the way,” he chuckled.

“Deacon,” John answered.

“Ah, Deaky… that makes a bit more sense now,” Finn laughed.

The bassist also laughed before he finished his coffee and then sauntered over to Finn. “Thank you, for a great night, and for the coffee this morning.”

“Thank _you,_ John.”

John leaned up and kissed Finn’s chin before kissing his lips and then headed for the door. He waved goodbye and then headed out to the street to hail a cab home.

 

**……….. … ………. …. …………**

 

“Should we start calling hospitals or what? What if something happened to him after we left?”

The thought did cross Brian’s mind and he had to admit there was worry bundling up in his chest but he remained calm. “Stop worrying, Rog. I’m sure he’s fine and probably just sleeping in or something. He’ll be home soon.”

Roger sighed heavily and lit up a cigarette before he glanced over at Freddie. “How the hell are you so calm, Freddie? John could be hurt!”

The singer cringed as Roger yelled and held his head before he took a sip of his tea. “Please calm down, Rog. I’m insanely hung over this morning and would appreciate it if we kept the noise down to a humane level, darling.”

Roger took a deep drag and started to pace the living room, looking up at the clock. He knew he had drunk a lot last night but he should’ve made John come home with them somehow. He looked at Brian who had set a plate of toast in front of Freddie who pushed it away.

“What if that bloke from last night fucking murdered John? What if he was a psychopath?! What if he hurt him?”

Brian walked over to Roger, looking at him patiently. “He seemed a nice enough chap, Roger. I’m sure he’s fine. Relax and sit down.”

The drummer sighed but sat down, regardless of how antsy he felt. He was up again though when he saw John come through the door a moment later, rushing over to him before he threw his arms around the bassist.

John was surprised but hugged him back. “Err… good morning, Rog.”

“Don’t good morning, Rog me, Deaky! I was so worried about you! I thought something happened to you! I was out of my mind!”

John chuckled and looked over at Brian who shrugged before he walked over to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee. “I appreciate the worry, but I promise I’m all right, Rog.”

“Thank fuck,” Roger sighed, taking another drag before he let himself relax and sit down again.

John moved over to the table where everyone else was and smiled at Brian when he put the cup of coffee in front of him, inviting more caffeine into his system. He took a drink of it and looked around at the men, seeing a smirk spread across Freddie’s face.

“What?”

Freddie playfully narrowed his eyes. “You got shagged last night, didn’t you?”

John suddenly became unnecessarily nervous and chuckled weakly. “What?”

Freddie clapped his hands. “You got epically shagged. Who was the lucky man? Oh my, did he pop your cherry, darling? Was it good?”

“What?!” Brian and Roger both exclaimed as they looked from Freddie to John.

The bassist sighed and rolled his eyes as he sipped his coffee. “If you must know -"

“Which we don’t because we’re not completely tossers and it’s John’s private life!” Brian made a point.

“Shut up, Bri,” Roger waved his hand and sat down beside John. “You did, didn’t you? Well what was it like, John? Did you like it? Was it okay? Was he okay?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Roger, please… do calm down,” Freddie turned to John. “But was it?”

John let the suspense hang in the room for a few minutes as he sipped his coffee. “It was nice. He was amazing, and a gentleman, and I did like it. A-A lot, as it turns out.”

“So you’re also…” Roger asked, searching John’s eyes.

“Gay,” John nodded, now certain. “I am.” He bit his lip before looking over at Freddie who looked like a proud father.

Freddie wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly, then he felt Roger do the same. Brian watched them with amusement and laughed softly before shaking his head.

“Our son is growing up so fast…”

John laughed before he gently pushed everyone off of him. “Shut up,” he chuckled. He fixed his hair and finished his coffee. “I think… I think I’m going to see him again, Finn, I mean… the guy from last night.”

Freddie had a Cheshire cat smile now. “Lovely, darling.”

“Yeah, John, that’s great, really. We’re happy for you. Aren’t we, Bri?”

Brian nodded and gave a sincere and warm smile to John. “We are. Congrats, John. I’m glad that Finn’s a good chap, even though I assumed he was anyway.”

John smiled, glad that all his best friends approved of his new boyfriend. He felt happy, truly happy. He had everything he wanted to have. He looked at Roger who was still smirking at him.

“Can we talk?” Roger suddenly asked him. “Alone, I mean?”

The suggestion took John by surprise but he nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your room?” When Roger nodded, the two men got up from the table.

“Make sure to tell us all the juice details after he tells you,” Freddie said teasingly.

Roger rolled his eyes and shut the door behind John once he walked inside, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. “Everything okay, Deaky?”

John nodded. “Yeah, you’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat before he motioned for John to sit on the bed. “I was thinking, you wanted to kill yourself before, right?” He eyed John’s wrists.

The bassist bit his lip before he nodded. “Y-Yeah, a long time ago.”

“Right, well… you wouldn’t have ever met this Finn guy if you had. You would’ve died feeling alone and you’d never have been in this band with us.”

John nodded now in agreement but he hadn’t thought about that until Roger said it aloud. “Yeah, that’s right. Seems like it was good that I survived all that before. I’m happy now, Roger… and no matter how bad it can get, how dark, there are still good people in the world, and you should be around to see them.”

Roger nodded, realizing that John was making this a lesson for him now instead of the other way around. He smiled softly and nodded. “I do believe you’re right, Deaky. I want to be around to see us play and make albums and lots of money.”

John laughed now, grinning. “Me too.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get off our feet and stop playing all these bloody colleges?”

The bassist nodded automatically. “Yes, Rog. I do. As long as we can still be friends at the end of the day, then I think we can. We’ll go places, but only if we do it together.”

Roger nodded now, smirking. “Yeah, together.”

John smiled and wrapped Roger in a hug, feeling the drummer do the same.

“So... was it weird, the sex? I mean, how did it feel exactly?”

John groaned and threw a pillow at him.

“Shut up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who commented and bookmarked and kudo'd! Ya'll are awesome and I love my Queen family! 
> 
> If you haven't already, go check out my two other completed Bo Rap fanfics if you want more to read :) I'll probably be writing more soon because I love Maylor way too much.
> 
> Thank you again!


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